


Things We Learned From Wars

by CircusBones



Series: Kid's Movies [3]
Category: Captain America, Captain America (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Thor (Movies), X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Darcy Lewis is a BAMF, Domestics, F/M, Gen, Love Triangles, Other, That old superhero dilemma of non-super significant others, The Sads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-25
Packaged: 2017-11-16 23:36:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircusBones/pseuds/CircusBones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slightly darker sequel to Kid's Movies. The further education of Steve Rogers, and the SHIELD-ification of Darcy Lewis. Adventure, angst, character death, and a couple of cameos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This starts just as fluffy as the last, and gets progressively a little darker. This was completed, originally, two months ago. 
> 
> My comic canon on Winter Soldier will be somewhat warped to fit the established movie verses. As for X-Men, well, I take what I like from the films, leave out what I don't, and replace with comic canon. Which means X3 never happened ;) As always, I adore everyone who's reading!

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January is generally a downer of a month, at least in Darcy's experience. Then again, much of her experience has taken place in an area of California that tends to be brown, boring and that depressing place between actual cold, and just warm enough in the sunshine that you're taking off your favorite cardigan. She's never experienced January in New York City, though, buried in a few feet of snow, working at a job she loves, training four times a week with a super spy, and coming home to a sweet, tall hunk of all-American muscle.

Yep, January of 2013 is definitely Darcy's new favorite January.

Mind, things aren't perfect. The world is a very vulnerable place, compared to the rest of the universe, and the parallel universes. A girl really has that truth driven home for her, when she's working alongside superheroes and genius scientists (or in some cases, genius scientist superheroes). Still, the time in between all the smashing and Avenging is pretty damn swell, and it makes all the rest more than worth it. And honestly, it feels like the bad guys are also having a bit of a winter snooze at the moment. Darcy Lewis wishes them sweet dreams.

"There's another blizzard brewing!" Steve says cheerily one afternoon, shaking snow from his coat in the entryway of their apartment, after an afternoon at the garage two blocks down from the Tower (he liked to visit with his bike, now that it had to be hibernating). From her spot on the couch cataloging Jane Foster's recent findings, Darcy can't help grinning at his goofy enthusiasm. She might be enjoying the snow, but Steve Rogers downright -loves- New York in the winter. Perhaps even more so now that he doesn't have to worry about pneumonia. Or the flu. Or a slight cough.

Poor ickle-Steve, Darcy muses.

"How long before the city calls on the Avengers to start shoveling snow, doyathink?" She sets down her Stark tablet, rising and moving toward him, reaching up and pressing her hands to his cold cheeks. Steve turns his head, kissing her palm before tugging her into his arms.

"You joke, but I'm not sure they won't," He nuzzles her nose, "Half the streets around us haven't seen a plow yet since the -last- dump."

"Call me an insensitive jerk, but I've got no complaints," Darcy sighs happily, pushing off his coat and tugging him over to the couch. "Though I am kinda worried about that infamous cabin fever kickin' in."

"Thought I was keeping you plenty busy, Agent Lewis," Steve attempts to waggle his eyebrows, and only succeeds in making his girlfriend laugh. Flopping back down on the couch, Steve's faithful mutt Volstagg waddles over and plops down in his master's lap, belly-up, expectantly. Steve rubs said belly dutifully,"Actually I did kind of have an idea of how to spend all this time," Darcy lofts her own brow, "Clothed, anyway. Wanna watch more movies?"

"Ooo, ready to move onto Dreamworks, are you?" She grins, snuggling into his side. Steve really has a thing for scratchy, old-man sweaters lately, and Darcy is a big fan. He shakes his head, mussing her hair a little.

"I was thinking something a little heavier," His tone is light, but Darcy catches the waiting weight underneath, tilting up her chin to look at him. "SHIELD's catch-up homework for me has been...a little light." It was true. Darcy had seen the stack of books Captain America had been supplied with, and frankly, she'd had rougher history lessons in fifth grade. The books were all straight facts, almost no pictures, she's pretty sure he hasn't even seen footage of 9/11 yet. She knew their intentions were good, and knowing Steve as she now does, Darcy really does doubt he could have handled the reality of things all at once. Still, he's a big boy, and it's been over nine months that he's been awake now.

"Right, time to cut the cord," Darcy squints, thinking. "...Well, the first few World War II movies that jump to mind are gonna be harsh, soldier," She smirks, "Band of Brothers was pretty good, or so my brother tells me. Vietnam has really rough films too, but at least there's fun hippie scenes to cut back to in the States."

"I want to see, though," He maintains, firmly, "The more true stories, the better. Real images...they last longer." Darcy watches him, biting her lip, nodding.

"All right...but no giving yourself guilt trips." He gives her a look, and Darcy sighs, "BIG guilt trips, at least."

"Deal."

"...Later though," She murmurs, pushing the dog off his lap gently. Volstagg just gives a long-suffering 'ruff'. "This sweater is getting me all hot and bothered, Cap," She grins, tugging on the wool.

"You're so weird."

"And you like weird."

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Logically, she knows it's the first place to start. To set the scene, to give context to even the old timey films about specific battles, knowing what was going on in Europe is key. Still, Darcy knows she'll be met with a pretty angsty Cap once the credits roll on this particular film. It's what he wants, though, and she figures that for one, the movie does have a sort-of happy ending, and for two, they can always follow it up with Indiana Jones beating up some Nazis.

"This is going to be rough," She warns him for the umpteenth time, as they settle into their usual spots in the communal home theater. It has the best acoustics, the biggest screen, and Steve kind of has a soft spot for the couch they had their first make out session on. Darcy does too. Depending on how the night goes, she may just have to recreate it.

"I am aware and prepared," He assures her, massive bowl of popcorn in his lap, and massive beefy superhero arm around Darcy's shoulders. She snuggles into him, reaching for the remote as the wind howls and blows snow around outside the giant windows to either side of the screen. It's a cozy night, good for being close to someone. The opening of Schindler's List begins, and Steve's eyes are glued to the screen from the first frame onward.

They remain that way for the next few hours, too. Darcy has to admit, there are still some scenes she can't watch, and she's seen the movie more than once. Mostly she watches Steve, the way his jaw tenses through some scenes, fists clenching in rage, and how, in others, he looks sick to his stomach. Darcy knows these reactions, she's watched this with someone from that time period before, after all. And then, of course, as it does for even the most stoic of humans, the scene of Oskar Schindler leaving his factory has Captain America hastily wiping his eyes, smiling a little again.

"That was..."

"Yeah," Darcy takes his hand, squeezing it. "You can read a million things about it, even watch documentaries, but a recreation of first hand accounts, man," She shakes her head, "S'why the worst scene for me, even with all the violence, is of the guy who has to go through the eyeglasses."

"Your great-uncle was living in Poland, then," He remembers, and Darcy nods, "Marie's big brother. He didn't...?"

"Nope," Darcy shakes her head, "He and his wife got sent right to Auschwitz. If he'd been in France, with gran and Marie...but he met a Polish girl while he was at university I guess," She smirks, "My brother Isaac's named after him, though. Neither my great aunt or gran had any boys."

"So many people..." His voice is hollow as he says it, and Darcy bites her lip, holding his hand again, "I know, I'm sorry, and I know what they had me off doing was real important too, it's just..."

"It -was-," She says, firmly, "The world didn't know just how thoroughly you saved their asses, but you did. And anyway, as we just saw so vividly, there were plenty of other heroes," He nods, slowly. "One man, one smooth bastard who wasn't even a soldier, and because of him over a thousand people survived the Holocaust going on around them.

"Not a soldier, but a good man," Steve smirks to himself, "An imperfect man, even."

"I know, right? Schindler failed at business, his marriage, most things," Darcy licks the popcorn butter from her fingers, "But he saw horror and did what he could, with the talents he had. And so did a lot of people," She goes on, "There were families in Germany who hid their Jewish neighbors in their basements for the whole war, the nurse at Auschwitz who performed abortions so that pregnant Jewish women wouldn't be tortured in fuckin' experiments, and on and on," Darcy says firmly, "Even against incredible odds, people were standing up in their quiet way, and saying no."

"It's a weird kind of comfort..." Steve sighs, shaking his head, still smirking, "And I guess I sound kinda full of myself, lamenting the fact that I wasn't there to end the war in one fell swoop."

"Well, you did knock out Adolf Hitler on a nightly basis there for a bit, Cap," She grins, nudging him a little, glad that the cloud of sadness wasn't hanging over him too heavily. "I think it's kinda in your make up, though, to want to save help everyone you can, you damn perfect specimen, you." That gets her a real grin, and a blush, and Darcy inwardly celebrates a wee victory, "...Seeing it played out does make it more real, though."

"I'm glad," He notes, decidedly, eyes on the scrolling credits, "I'm glad I have some firm images in my head. Of the worst and the best people can be."

"Downright poetical, handsome," Darcy leans up, a little awkwardly, to kiss his cheek. "...We should toggle the heavy with the light though. Tomorrow night, we're watching Inglorious Basterds. Definitely not on SHIELD's syllabus."

"I submit to your will, professor," He sighs, faint smile on his lips, turning to lay on his back, his head in her lap. Darcy's pretty sure she's got the most perfect life, right here, in this moment.

"...I love you," She finds herself murmuring, stroking his hair back from his brow. Even now, she can surprise herself with the admission, her throat closing up a little when she looks at him, looking up at her. The real, bright, blissful grin that spreads slowly over his lips, every time, is always worth it. Like he can't believe he's lucky enough to have her. It's the one time he doesn't look as if any of the shit that's happened to him has. Steve just looks happy.

And it makes her happy.

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	2. Chapter 2

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Inglourious Basterds turns out to be a rousing hit, that the whole team joins them for. It's the first time Steve's really been back for a movie night with everyone else, since the failed attempt at Game of Thrones. Darcy can't help grinning the whole time, watching Cap in a situation, outside the field anyway, where he's blending in with everyone else seamlessly. Violence is nothing new to him, and after nearly a year in the modern world, neither is the prolific foul language, so everyone in the room is yelling, cheering, and laughing at Brad Pitt's accent together.

"I'll admit, I didn't much approve at first," Bruce notes quietly, when he and Darcy get up for more drinks at the same time. She narrows her eyes at him good-naturedly, and Dr. Banner chuckles, juggling his root beer and Betty's Guinness, "Of him dating -anyone- so soon after thawing, not you especially."

"Yeah, I guess he did kinda latch onto me pretty quick," Darcy allows, grabbing two blackberry Long Trails. Jarvis remembers everyone's favorites, and Steve likes the flavor. She grins, "Not like you were very keen on ANY super-person having a girlfriend though, Hulky."

"Below the belt," He totally fixes her with a dad-stare, before smiling again, "Honestly, though, you've been amazing for him, Darcy," He says earnestly, nodding to where Steve and Tony are actually -laughing- together, repeating lines at each other, while Jane is still trying to explain to Thor exactly how Aldo Raine is getting everyone's accents wrong, and Nat has already gotten buzzed, perched in Clint's lap like a grinning teenager. "He and I have been...the ones holding back. I guess we both kinda needed a lady around to kick our asses," He notes, looking down, as Betty leans over the back of the couch and makes grabby-hands at her beer.

"Nah," Darcy smiles, spinning back toward Steve's side, "You needed a lady around to remind you both that you're worth it."

"So, this is NOT how Hitler actually met his end?" Thor was asking, again.

"Nope, coward killed himself all holed up in a bunker," Natasha sighs, limbs all over a stoically pleased Hawkeye, "Call this 'fictional history'. What most people kind of wish had happened."

"And while I feel like I should be all against indulging violent fantasies," Steve smirks, taking his beer as Darcy snuggles into his side, "We -are- the Avengers." There was a collective groan.

"Good grief," Tony throws popcorn at his head, "You and Lewis deserve each other."

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The labs at Stark Tower have started to feel more like home than work...all right, maybe that boring part of your home, Darcy thinks. That desk you pay the bills at or do your homework at. But between the proximity to her actual home and the fact that she spends her working days with her best friend, three other seriously nice people, and a slew of interns who actually kind of look up to -her-, of all people, it's still pretty awesome. Never mind the giant wormhole generator upstairs, and the army of Stark robots puttering around. Darcy's pretty sure there isn't a better place to work on planet Earth, even if she is a little biased.

"Here's the latest data on the last portal," Jane hands her a disc the next day, containing all the info on her most recent trip to Asgard. Apparently she's made quite the impression up there, with Thor's folks. She's also traveled half-way across the universe, which has certain people calling the labs at all hours."Also I don't suppose you can proofread my next report for NASA, can you?" Darcy pauses, blinking.

"...Every now and then, someone says something in this lab that makes me have to stop, remember where I am, and that this shit is normal," She grins, "Sure, stupid-fingers, I'll beta your space-fanfic."

"Thanks," Jane rolls her eyes, but does look a little apologetic, tilting her head, "That's kind of outside your current job description Darce, I'm sorry." Darcy waves a hand, punching some keys and putting the disc into her shiny new Stark computer.

"It's no big Jane, really. I'm a SHIELD agent now, yeah, but I'm still your serving wench first."

"I just feel like we've been swamping you," Jane squints, "You haven't even gone back to school yet." At that, Darcy does bite her lip, nodding.

"I actually ah, have some hang-ups about that," She replies, eyes on the screen and fingers flying as she organizes the data, not missing a key, "I want to swap my major." Darcy grins, "Different science. Physics kinda science. I mean I'm good at this shit, it makes sense in my head the more I learn." This has the expected reaction, Jane busting out in a grin, and both Erik and Bruce looking up from their desks. "Thing is, not many of the places I've looked into have really in-depth online courses for applied physics, and I don't wanna leave New York." She adds, in her Natasha-accent, "Am credit to team."

"Hell yeah you are," Jane assures her, bouncing a little on her heels with enthusiasm, and looking over to Erik, the two of them doing their freaky mind-meld thing, "I'm pretty sure the bunch of us can pull some strings, too," Bruce nods, "You've done more than enough practical legwork and you've had a lot of education the last six months, you just need someone to bully people into working around your schedule."

"I'm good at bullying," Betty notes, breezing by with a huge trunk of tech in her deceptively buff arms, "We'll have you attending somewhere by next week." She drops the trunk by Bruce's desk, beaming sweetly down at him. Darcy almost makes a Hulk joke (She-Hulk, maybe? Is that a thing that can happen?), but thinks better of it. Instead she affects a teary expression, hand to her heart, sighing.

"You guys are just too-too."

"Our little oompa-loompa really IS growing up," Jane takes up the act, wrapping her arms around Darcy's shoulders, swallowing an imaginary lump in her throat, "I'm just...just so proud!" She breaks down in pretend sobs. Darcy laughs, shaking her head.

"Careful, Fury will think we're having fun."

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"You can hit harder than that!" Nat's shouting at her, grinning, as the two of them circle each other in the boxing ring. Black Widow is still miles ahead of Darcy as far as physical prowess goes, but Darcy's also fast, darting every which way, and she can pack a punch. Hitting Natasha though just seems like it should always end with the person who did the hitting missing a few pints of blood. Even so, Darcy circles a few more times before aiming a hit to Nat's jaw, which she just barely dodges. "Perfect!"

From the weight benches, Tony and Steve applaud. "Pepper's developed a hell of a right hook," Tony notes, tossing a barbell between his hands, "Super hot. This one beat you up in bed, Cap?" Oh Steve, he turns ever so red, and it thoroughly distracts Darcy. Nat gets in a hit to her gut, and she doubles over.

"Only sometimes," Steve replies, evenly, eyes on the ring, face impassive except for the blush, "Most of the time though she's tied -to- the bed." He succeeds in making both Tony drop a weight on his toe, and Natasha stumble, allowing Darcy to land a punch. Oh, she could just kiss him. Steve just smiles.

"Agent Romanov," Jarvis' smooth voice issues from somewhere above, and everyone takes pause, "Director Fury has summoned you for a briefing, in the ready room."

"Well," Natasha notes, brightly, "I hope they're sending me somewhere sunny and warm. Behave yourselves, kids." She saunters out of the gym, and Darcy waves after her, turning and grinning to Steve.

"Don't break Tony, Steve. He lets us live in his house."

"Nope, go right ahead, keep breaking Tony," Tony grins, limping over to the weight rack. "So is it handcuffs, actual rope, chains, or...?"

"Never you mind," Steve growls, plucking up a giggling Darcy and tossing her over his shoulder, making for the door. She winks, giving his ass a good smack.

Her life, what was it?

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A few days later finds them settling in for another movie, the snow still falling, and Natasha still absent from the Tower. As such, Steve and Darcy have Hawkeye perched on the end of their couch, Volstagg having jumped ship for the night and lolling around in Clint's lap. The dog was a fan of undivided attention.

"Any word from her yet?" Darcy asks, and the sharp-shooter shakes his head, looking unconcerned enough, though the way he's scratching the mutt behind the ears is telling.

"S'good though," Clint says evenly, eyes on the black and white film filling up half the wall before them, "No news is good news with Nat. ...She usually disobeys orders and tells me where they're sending her, though."

"Not this time, I gather?" Steve tears his eyes away from Stalag 17 long enough to ask, frowning. Clint shakes his head again.

"And she was tight-lipped while she was packing her things," He shrugs, putting on a grin, "Lady has to have her secrets, though." He makes it sound so simple, but Darcy knows it's not. She's watched Hawkeye and Black Widow together, and though they haven't been together much longer than she and Steve, even just as friends and teammates, they seem able to read each other like a book, while the rest of SHIELD just sees two carefully schooled faces. All the Avengers have gotten much more relaxed with each other, trusting each other, but Natasha remains a trained stone fox when she wants to be, and Clint can still read her on her most inward of days. They're the old married couple of super spies, and if Clint didn't see something on her face that worried him, Darcy's Volstagg's mother.

"Horse shit, but as you will, Katniss," She smirks, leaning sideways against Steve as the old, yet seriously hilarious movie plays on. "God I haven't seen this movie since I was a kid and it's -still- amazing."

"It's funny, without downplaying the reality that they're in a prison camp," Steve observes, right before busting out laughing again, that goofy, uncaring laugh that says he's really and truly relaxed. Darcy grins around her beer, watching him.

"Mind, this didn't come out until long after the war ended, but people still needed a reason to laugh I think," She bites her lip, "The 50s might have seemed all clean-cut, but those people had seen shit, man."

"And the cold war was coming on," Clint adds, and then sighs, pushing a hand through his short hair, "Aaaand there's the pangs again. Why am I worrying so much about a woman who can break me without breaking a sweat?"

"Cause you're in looooove," Darcy beams, and Hawkeye hangs his head in defeat, smirking. Steve just tightens the arm around her.

"Trust me buddy. Way worse things can happen to a man."

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	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ermuhgerd, Coulson.

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February is just beginning when Darcy's favorite bodega near the Tower closes. "I thought bodegas were like local cheap Chinese food places, in that they NEVER close as long as you live somewhere!" She'd moaned.

It wasn't really that inconvenient to go to the next grocery down the block. However, they didn't have Steve's favorite weird, obscure brand of chocolate cookies there, and the man asked for so few things specifically. This is how she found herself trekking half-way across Manhattan, Volstagg in tow, gloved hands buried in her coat pockets and head bent against the wind. The streets were clear, yet snow still piled up on the sidewalks, and the dog was enjoying himself. While Steve would have had a cow if he knew she was raiding every bodega between the East River and Hudson, Darcy was kind of enjoying exploring the city thus, the cold and wet notwithstanding.

She eventually found exactly what she was looking for at a tiny place outside of Harlem, and bought eight packages of the damn cookies. Upon exiting, she took pause, taking in a deep breath of the crisp, polluted air through her nose. Her eyes passed over the Hungarian pastry shop across the street, and Darcy found herself doing a double-take, squinting at the window, at the man sitting, having his mid-morning coffee and baklava, reading the paper. She barely remembered to look both ways before darting across the street.

"You're dead." She blurts out, falling into the seat across from one Philip Coulson. The paper lowers, and that measured, familiar smile greets her. Volstagg falls across Darcy's boots with a 'ruff'.

"Have you seen the new Batman film yet, Agent Lewis?"

"How did you know I'm an Agent now?" Darcy's eyes widen, "Phil, are you magic?"

"Very funny," Coulson sets his paper aside, and reaches for his coffee mug, "My question stands."

"Yes. And...gotcha." Darcy bites her lip, "...So, Bruce Wayne, how've you been?"

"Excellent," Phil smiles again, waving to the little waitress hovering nearby, "Miss, another coffee please."

An hour later finds the two of them sitting in Central Park, as a light snow starts falling. Coulson seems far more interested in what Darcy's been up to, what her training's been like, how Jane's research has progressed, and yes, how it is to live with Captain America. And then he's telling her about his own early years with SHIELD, while saying precious little about anything that's happened to him recently. And despite being desperate to know the details of his "death", Darcy finds herself latching on to the information, his little jokes about Fury, missions he's been on. He's still that reserved guy she was intimidated by in New Mexico, but far more at ease, and sounding like a straight up mentor.

"Ah," He looks down at his phone at length, as an alarm buzzes. "I'm afraid I've got to run Miss Lewis, ultrasound appointment." Darcy's eyebrows go up into her hairline.

"Woah, 'grats man," She presses her lips together, "...What do I tell Steve?" Phil blinks at her.

"Is he likely to ask you 'So did you see Agent Coulson out and about in the city today'?" He smiles, rising from the bench they'd been occupying, offering her a hand up. Darcy rolls her eyes.

"Well no, but..." She sighs, "I don't like keeping things from him. And seriously, man," Darcy narrows her eyes, as she stands, "You dying messed them all up. Was kind of a dick move, at least by Fury." Phil nods, slowly, giving the young woman in front of him an appraising look before replying.

"It served a greater purpose, though, you'll justify more than you realize with those words, before long," He says, hands in the pockets of his classy, yet perfectly civilian black pea coat, "And I was up for retirement. There are only so many ways that a SHIELD agent with my level of clearance can retire, Miss Lewis, and I am afraid you'll find that out yourself one day," He smiles again, and this time its the kindest, most unguarded smile he's given her, "I might not be dead, but I did take a blade through my chest. My name isn't Philip anymore to the rest of the world, my son won't have the last name Coulson, and I was clever enough to put a round-about paper-trail on a distant cousin so I'd have at least one family member to visit once I left the world."

Darcy swallows, letting all that sink in. She'd had a vague notion of all this, of how distant she already had to keep her parents, her big brother, but seeing the proof in front of her is another beast entirely. "I did almost die a few months back. Couldn't tell the folks," She takes a deep breath, looking down at the dog. "...Aaand now I can't have kids." Coulson drops a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"You'll give a lot more for SHIELD, before you're done...Believe in what you're doing, and believe hard." He whispers that last bit, and then smiles again, "And you've got the Captain. Is he taking care of my cards?"

"Keeps a couple in his wallet," She can't help grinning again. The look on Agent Coulson's face is priceless and pleased.

"Wonderful. Stay safe, Agent Lewis, and think about what I've said." He pats her shoulder, turning to go, leaving the park and hailing a cab. Likely taking him to a doctor's office somewhere, Darcy thinks, chewing on her bottom lip. Back to his quiet new life, with a family that won't ever have to worry about dad not coming home because he's busy fighting aliens or super villains.

"Damnit, it's like a Men in Black movie," She sighs, tugging on Volstagg's leash, wiping her eyes on her fuzzy glove.

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After she comes home from her Epic Cookie Hunt, Steve keeps...looking at her. He was reading when she came in, and now his eyes are just following her around the kitchen as she puts away food. Darcy's half afraid that he's suddenly developed telepathy (cause hey, that's a thing that happens), and will soon work out that she's just run into a very alive and chatty Phil Coulson, but his expression is a little too pleased. "You're makin' me nervous over here, soldier," She grins, having shucked off her outerwear and now tugging her sweater off over her head. Steve's eyes are fixed somewhere around her chest as she does, and Darcy thinks maybe she's getting a better idea of where his head is at.

"You're just...really gorgeous today," He grins, and she knows there's something else on the tip of his tongue that he isn't saying. She laughs, swaying over to the couch, while a somewhat soggy Volstagg gratefully curls up over a nearby heater.

"I'm a mess today," Darcy corrects, sitting across Steve's knees, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her hair is frizzy from her sweater, her face flushed and makeup-less, and her jeans are wet and sand-stained halfway up her calves. Captain America is having none of her protesting, though, already catching her in a kiss, going horizontal. This is when Darcy decides that arguing is just wasted air.

She's pretty sure he's distracting her from whatever he's trying not to say, but after her conversation with Phil, Darcy really doesn't care. At least not at the moment. She was just reminded of her mortality yet again, so distractions in the form of just how alive they both are? Totally okay. Steve doesn't even bother trying to get her to the bed, looming over her and fumbling with her pants, her shirt, right there on the couch.

Darcy takes pity on him and his big hands after a bit of awkwardness and giggling, deciding that what's going on in his head can wait. She tugs off her t-shirt, his sweater, and shimmies out of her jeans like a champ, and then they're kissing, tugging each close like teenagers. For all the devious stuff Darcy's introduced Cap to lately, nothing quite beats this, the two of them just reaching for each other, needing each other, without plot or preamble. He tugs on her boring ol' cotton panties, she's biting his neck, knowing it won't leave a mark, and then they're moving into each other against the scratchy, over-starched couch.

He cradles her face in his hands as he comes, some minutes later, gasping against her open mouth. And then his hands are swimming in her hair, tugging and gripping her close, both of their hips rolling against each other, drawing out the sensations, the deep, intense moans. And then Darcy's biting her lip, grinning up at him, tracing his sweet, vulnerable face with her fingertips.

"Somebody was thinkin' about me today, mmm?" She grins, and Steve returns it, a bit bashful. He hasn't been like this since they first met, and it has Darcy back to entertaining all kinds of theories about where his head is at.

"A lot," He admits, watching her as she rises, in her bra and nothing else, heading for the bathroom. He licks his lips, she sees out of the corner of her eye, and feels it somewhere deep and aching, "...Let's go to dinner tonight," He blurts out, and Darcy raises a brow, but doesn't argue.

"...All right!" She laughs, cleaning up and pulling a brush through her hair, before it finally hits her, where this all might be heading. "...Oh, fuck."

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She's wearing one of her best skirts when he asks her. The one she'd been wearing the day they met on the roof of the Tower, hugging her curves and paired with a lacy pink vintage blouse, the same kitten heels. Darcy half-hyperventilates all night, but it's a good feeling, a good knotting in her gut. Who cares that she's only 21 and he's a national hero. He loves her, and she's 99% sure that it's going to happen tonight, and it doesn't actually scare her in the slightest.

They're half-way through their fancy, ridiculously expensive desert when he starts fidgeting, and then clearing his throat, and Darcy feels the smile spreading across her face already, even before he starts talking, "Darcy," He manages to get out, looking her in the eye, and she finds herself sending him all the wordless encouragement she can muster. Steve relaxes, if only a little bit, grinning back, "I uh. Was going to wait until Valentine's Day but then I saw this today, and, well," He clears his throat, "You know I'd never be able to keep a secret that long." He draws the velvet box from his pocket, and Darcy can't help herself, tossing her head and laughing.

"No you sure as hell couldn't," She says loudly, fondly, biting her lip and willing herself not to get choked up. For pete's sake, she's a hardass SHIELD agent, nothing gets to her! But then Steve Rogers is getting up, right in the middle of a full restaurant, and the collective intake of breath almost does her in.

"Darcy Lewis," he starts, kneeling, and why the hell is this making her flail?! This is straight up cliché, romantic crap and...it's making her sniffle, already, her hands drawn up to her face. "You've made me happier than I...ever thought I could be, after all that's happened," The box snaps open, and Darcy has to admit, through her emotional enema, that Steve definitely knows her taste in bling. It's a simple ring, but the diamond is freakin' huge, and surrounded by tiny sapphires...her favorite color. "I know you don't want to get married for a while but, I figured I'd lock in my request early," His grin widens as his confidence grows, between her reaction and the soppy 'awws' from the other patrons, "I know I'm a chore sometimes. But if you'll be my wife...I promise to try and make you just as happy as you've made me."

"Oh god, get up here," She gulps, reaching down and grabbing his collar, tugging him up for a good hard snog. There's scattered applause, and a few snaps of cell phone cameras going off cause hey, someone just saw Captain America propose to his girlfriend. Darcy doesn't mind their intrusion into her happiness in the least. "Yes," She whispers in his ear, "Yes, yes, like ten thousand times, yes."

He pulls back to look at her, his expression tinged with an incredulity that undoes her all over again, right before he puts the ring on her, and kisses her again. Darcy's pretty sure he'll never stop being amazed that she loves him, and she knows for sure that she won't ever stop being floored by the fact that he's all hers. Even if they don't get hitched for a good long while, she's pretty sure they've got all two people need to stay together, right there.

At least, she hopes that's all two people need.

"Are you happy?" He asks her later that night, when once again, they're a tangle of warm limbs and sated flesh, all wrapped around each other tight. Darcy grins, her face almost unable to contain the motion, reaching up and stroking his hair.

"I'm the happiest girl in the world, handsome."

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Black Widow returns to the Tower a few days later. Darcy knows this, because Fury not only calls in all the Avengers for the debriefing, but her, Agent Hill, and Jane as well. She's only been in the office Tony set up for Fury once before, and then everyone had been far too morose for her to bother looking around. Now, Darcy takes in the digs with a little grin. Monochrome, boring, bordering on a parody of Fury's personality. She wonders if the director has noticed yet.

"Agent Romanov has just returned from Europe," Fury began, hands clasped before him on the large, smooth table, "Gathering recon. Natasha," He motions for her to speak. Darcy has seen Nat's various poker faces, but this one is the most thorough, her mission-face, one that Clint's mirroring, at the moment.

"SHIELD had inklings that certain, former Soviet spy channels were being reactivated," She says, crisply, "I've confirmed their suspicions. Many of the programs that produced various assassins scattered after the dissolution of the Soviet Union, including the program that cultivated me, are quite busy as we speak."

"Nat," Tony cuts in, raising a brow, "You couldn't have even been out of kindergarten when the USSR fell apart." At this, Nat just smirks.

"I'm a little older than I look, Stark," She murmurs, and this at least doesn't seem to be news to Clint, who just grins to himself. "At any rate, someone is contacting all the old lines. Activating people. Gathering them to their cause." She frowns, "Whatever level they're working on, though, I couldn't find or access it. All that's clear though is that someone wants very talented people, with very specific skills," She smirks at that, humorlessly, "I've got names of people for us to trail, though, to see where this is all going."

"Some bald angry guy with a doctorate who wants better-than-average henchmen, I'm guessing," Tony waves a hand, and actually succeeds in making Nat chuckle a little, which may have been his goal, "I'm also guessing these are folks most people wouldn't mess with on a good day, yes?"

"Yes," Nat bites her lip, suddenly, carefully, not looking at Tony then, or Clint, or Fury, anyone but Steve, "Also, I have to tell you...Winter Soldier has been activated." There's a collective murmur from the room. Or at least, from everyone except Steve and Darcy. Captain America just blinks.

"Who?"

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	4. Chapter 4

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Steve doesn't talk to most of the team for a few days, and Darcy gears herself up for a brooding period, this one more than a little justified. For other things, like bouts of brooding over old army buddies, things that happened during the war he couldn't stop, even sadness now and then that he hadn't been around for Peggy when certain hard things had happened in her life, Darcy has found the balance of listening, but then also pushing him into other, positive things. She's become a pro at gauging Captain America, The Soldier Out of Time, at least until now.

Nothing prepares a girl, though, for comforting her future husband, right after he finds out that his dead best friend isn't actually dead, had been found and made into a super assassin for the Bad Guys, has a bionic arm now ('Oh yeah, he lost the arm to frostbite because his serum hadn't worked as well as yours did, had enough guilt tripping yet, Cap?'), and has spent most of the last few decades in and out of cryogenic sleep.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" He'd grit his teeth in the briefing room, his hands in balled up fists on the table. Natasha had been the one to answer, her careful mask cracking a little. Seated next to her, Hawkeye was silent as the grave, eyes on the far wall.

"For one, until a week ago, we thought he was dead," She told Steve honestly, her voice level, "Winter Soldier was supposed to have died on the mission that...freed me of the hold they had on me." She paused to wet her lips, "And what would you have done in our place, Steve? Let you go on believing that James Barnes died a hero on a mission for his country, or tell you the truth? That he'd been a lab rat of Hydra, that the serum he was exposed to was just enough to keep him alive on ice, and that he was found, brainwashed, and made into a human weapon?"

"...The truth," Steve had replied at length, his voice cracking over the word, "I always want the goddamn -truth-." Then he'd gotten up, had a good and proper storm-out, and Darcy had followed, with an apologetic look at Nat. Because Black Widow didn't look like she was having the best time of her life over all of this, either.

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By the time a week has passed, though, Steve has calmed down plenty, deciding not to address the well-intentioned lie. Now he wants to rush off and start looking for Bucky right away, but even Darcy knows that's probably a bad idea. Once again, she's the only one who can talk that into him.

"There's the bigger mission, handsome. And besides, if he's brainwashed, it'll just end in a fight and I know you don't want that. Let them figure out how to get to him first, like they did with Nat, and then you'll be the first guy signed up, yeah?" Eventually he just nods, kissing her forehead, murmuring something about how she's too good to him, and going off to abuse the gym.

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"You know the other Agents call you a miracle worker," Jane notes later that day, as the two of them dart in and out of dress shops. The physicist has been invited to a science gala at the freaking White House, and has dragged Darcy out to assure a second, female opinion on her evening-wear. Not that Darcy's any expert on fashion, but one should never brave Michael Kors alone.

"I just know the man," Darcy shrugs, "You gotta admit though, it was a jerk thing for them not to tell him."

"I hear all the gossip," Jane nods, sighing, as they finally leave a boutique with a dress, and are now off to find shoes, "SHIELD really is still handling him with kid gloves, as if he'll snap at any time." Darcy downright growls.

"Hell, BRUCE doesn't even snap at any time!" She throws up her hands as they trudge down the sidewalk, startling a passing pedestrian, "Steve's a big boy, he can handle shit, it's the keeping secrets...keeping things from him in general, that makes him blow up." She sighs, "He's the biggest sweetheart in the world, and so god-damn GOOD, Jane. It's the goodness that makes him take things so hard."

"Trust me, I get it," Jane looks at her sideways, smiling a little, "He and Thor have a lot in common, there. Injustice really hits 'em hard."

"I just hope all of it doesn't break him," Darcy bites her lip, and Jane nudges her.

"This is why he's got you," She notes. "...And I guess why Thor's got me too," She smiles a little, "I mean, he's a little more accepting of weirdness than Steve, I know, but Earth can break his heart sometimes too."

"Thor's an eternal optimist though," Darcy chuckles, shaking off her annoyance at her employers for the moment, "He accepts your word readily. Steve...isn't the opposite, I think he's become a realist though, and given the way he was, a long time ago...it kinda breaks my heart." Jane shakes her head, reaching over and giving her a hug.

"Thor's had a few thousand years though, he's an optimist coming out on the other side," She explains, "Maybe it won't take Steve long to do the same. At all. I think, again, it's why he's got you," Jane smirks, "You may be a sarcastic, emotionally-crippled bitch, Darce, but you do keep reminding the man of the good in the world."

"There'd be a sainthood in there for me somewhere, if I weren't Jewish."

"...And you're engaged to him, I keep forgetting. My Darcy. Engaged."

"Yeah our celebratory period kinda got interrupted," Darcy shrugs, grinning, glancing around them, "But no big, it's not like we're tying the knot anytime soon. Which reminds me, Ms. I Totally Met My Alien-God-Boyfriend's Parents," Her smirk turns into a grin, "When's YOUR space-wedding, mmm? I seem to remember a hospital bedside promise that I'd be maid of honor." Jane laughs, tossing her head.

"Weird, yeah? But who knows," The scientist sighs, only a touch of melancholy to her voice. "He can't technically take a mortal as Queen and hey, I never wanted to get married anyway. He's sort-of immortal, at least compared to my puny lifetime, that isn't changing. But he says he doesn't care," She swallows, eyes just a touch misty, "Says he'll happily stay with me for the rest of it."

"...Gawd, gag me with a spoon." Darcy adds, in her best Valley Girl impression, even as she takes her turn to hug Jane back. "We're some lucky bitches, man.

"Damn right."

"Lucky bitches who's passed like, three shoe stores, fail...holdup." Darcy stops short, in front of a little boutique smashed in between all the big name designer stores. There are pink paper hearts in the windows, a cat curled up under a dress-form, and the most adorable little thing Darcy has ever seen in her life, on said dress-form.

"Hmm? Oh wow." Jane stops next to her, tilting her head, taking in the short, long-sleeved, white lace number. "...You were saying, about not tying the knot any time soon?" She smirks.

"I can manage not to lose or gain ten pounds for the next two to five years," Darcy states with conviction, diving into the shop.

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When Darcy returns home, it's to two muscly men sitting cross-legged on the living room floor of her studio apartment, playing a video game. Apparently while she was out, Clint had come over and taught Steve how to play Call of Duty. Darcy hurries to stash the frilly bag containing, yes, her future wedding dress, somewhere deep in the back of the closet, before wandering toward them, totally cool. Totally not embarrassed, at all, as she pushes off her coat.

"Hey kids, you kissed and made up I see," She grins, as two of the world's greatest heroes jump in surprise, "And are engaging in violence! So proud." Darcy bends down to drop a kiss on Steve's lips, and he tugs on her scarf to draw her in for another. Clint half-grins, half-winces.

"I figured why mope alone when I could shoot shit with Steve," He replies, his tone light, but Darcy wasn't born in the 21st century. Steve, however, is the one to elaborate.

"Natasha apparently dated Bucky," He says, as if the concept is still mind-boggling for him, the man who was frozen for 70 years. "Well. When they let him out of cryo, anyway. And before she got her proper head back."

"Thanks Steve. And all that's just fine," Hawkeye goes on evenly, poker-face back in place as they start up another game. Darcy curls up on the couch behind them, reaching out to play with Cap's hair. "...But she isn't talking to me. Nat...always talks to me." He presses his lips together again, tightly, and Darcy knows the moment of emotion honesty has passed. She just nods.

"What you boys need is a good movie," She notes at length.

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Darcy's never actually seen Saving Private Ryan before, so it's a bit of a learning experience for her as well. She knows the beach-storming scene is some legendary work of warfare cinema though, and that a lot of main characters die...at that news, Steve just kind of gives her a look that says 'really? Death in a movie about war?' She'd smacked him and gone to the kitchen for beers and candy.

As the movie goes on, however, Darcy does somewhat wince over the fact that she's put on a film about a bunch of dudes going into the thick of war to rescue one soldier. She knows very well that you can draw just about any parallel between all forms of entertainment and whatever happens to be going on in your life at a given time, but seriously. Her history of education-via-film with Steve is peppered with timely/painful allegory.

Her fiance (Woah, that word) seems to enjoy it though, holding her close to his side the whole way through. Eventually, Thor and Jane filter in, to cuddle by the other couch. Bruce isn't far behind, sprawling out by a coffee table with a tablet full of science! and a mug of Betty's coffee. Tony shows up half-way through the movie, wordlessly patting Steve on the shoulder before taking up the third couch all for himself. Not a lot of conversation happens, which is unusual, and before the movie's over half the room gets their memos from Fury on who they'll be tailing (Darcy, Tony, Bruce and Clint will be tracking down spies, the first three via internet and Jarvis' all-seeing systems, Clint actually out in the field. Steve and Thor aren't exactly computer savy or easily stealthy. They'll be doing their super-spy homework).

But the silence is companionable, and though Steve's eyes are fixed on the movie, like always, he's more relaxed than Darcy's seen him all week. This is a room full of grown ass adults, she reminds herself. They all know what's gone on, that it's gonna be rough, and whether they knew before Steve did or not, they've got their patriotic buddy's back. Steve took a blow last week, and now Darcy can practically see him easing, opening up, the room suddenly a comfortable place for him. The sadness is still there, but he's surrounded by friends. Steve Rogers, a guy with a room full of friends. She burrows in close to his side.

"...So wow, Lewis, way to make us all feel sad feelings," Tony finally pipes up, as the credits roll. Darcy sighs, rolling her eyes.

"Why does the abuse always land on me?" She grumbles, good-naturedly. Above her, Steve is grinning though. He had gotten misty there a few times, burying a hand in her hair when he did. But now he's just happy. Or as close to happy as a man who's been processing the news that his best friend is now a super-assassin for Bad Guys can be.

"Oh my god," Tony's voice tears her away from Steve's face for a moment, glancing over, to spot the genius billionaire staring, dumbfounded, at Clint, "Legolas was crying."

"Asshole," Clint grumbles, and yup, his eyes are red and he's mopping up his damp cheeks. Across the room, Jane makes some little sound of sympathy, and Hawkeye shoots her a glare, and then Tony, and then the room at large. "...Just. Fuck Tom Hanks, man, seriously."

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	5. Chapter 5

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Both Darcy and Steve dive into their assigned work with a vigor, but it turns out that SHIELD and the Avengers are flying more blind than ever. Cap at least can get in some serious work, putting away his annoyance with Natasha in favor of asking her to tell him absolutely everything Bucky's been through, how he was trained, what his arm does, etc. Natasha hesitates at first, but soon the two of them are meeting every day, heads bent over their research, Steve reading reports and Nat adding personal anecdotes. Darcy and the others, however, are finding their jobs to be much more difficult.

"We can spot this gal on cameras, from eyewitness accounts," She tells Steve one night, rubbing her eyes, the screen in front of her starting to blur together after hours of tracking down intel on her assigned super-spy, "But whatever her movements are, how she got a ticket to the US, they're not showing up -anywhere-. Not even on the freaky-deaky, deep dark levels of communication that still knew every move Bruce made when he left the world."

"Is Fury ready to go ask some special friends for help yet?" Steve asks, moving behind her to rub her shoulders. Darcy goes limp in her chair, groaning low.

"...Just about," She manages.

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It's more disturbing though, to find out that Heimdall can't see -any- of the activated, former-Soviet spies, as well as the few known soldiers of fortune. By this time their friends a little south of the Avengers have caught wind of the alarming patterns...Gambit has gone missing too, as well as a student who goes by Jubilee, Professor Xavier tells Fury. Suddenly, the hunting party gets bigger. Darcy finds herself liaison with one Kurt Wagner, who's kind of amazing at tailing someone (pun totally intended).

It's when both Heimdall on the bifrost, and Xavier in cerebro, can't spot these people, even with Kurt hiding within a few feet of one, that some alarming theories start popping up.

"Xavier couldn't see Clint once either," Fury divulges, during their now-daily debriefing. There are more SHIELD agents in the room now too, not just Darcy and Agent Hill, and it's getting a little crowded. Barton's brows go up. Fury nods to him, meaningfully, "And it was when Loki had you."

"Loki remains in Asgard," Thor assures them, and yet his voice lacks a certain level of conviction, "...I do not doubt my brother's powers of influence, though." He adds on, at length.

"Isn't his famous silver tongue still muzzled?" Tony frowns, and Thor nods, slowly.

"He and his magic are...adaptable. But such adaptations have taken him years, in the past," Thor looking grim just isn't a good sign, and Darcy doesn't like it. Neither does Fury.

"Perhaps it's time you went and had a chat with your little brother."

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Despite the Tower's deep-winters rest coming to an abrupt end, there's still downtime to be had. Humans need to refuel, even super-soldier-humans and mutants, because when they don't they get cranky and the whole close living quarters suffer. Darcy leaves her laptop and Steve leaves his history lessons on the afternoon of Valentine's Day, to meet up for an utterly romantic date at the gym. Because actually leaving the Tower right now would probably get them both plenty of grief, and honestly, with what's going on, neither of them especially want to.

"Oh sweet space alien gods, I needed this," Darcy breathes, jumping off the treadmill after a solid five miles, to the sound of Steve chuckling over by the weight training machines. "I was slowly turning back into the squishy computer-vampire I was two years ago, WHILE doing work," She pauses long enough to chug down some water, before hopping onto one of the high-tech stationary bikes.

"Intel and monitoring are still important work," Steve grins, watching her. Darcy would probably never sport a 'hard body', and she could tell he liked that, her curves firmly in place. She'd toned up something fierce, though, and her arms, legs, and stomach looked crazy in her workout clothes. "We can't all be mutants going 'bamf' in the field."

"Nope, but I can be a leaf on the wind. Watch me soar!" She puts out her arms, letting her legs do the work. Steve just snorts, shaking his head.

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"So how're you and Nat?" Darcy asks later, when they're back in their apartment and peeling off sweaty gym clothes. She poses the question casually enough, but her eyes are all over him, and Steve can feel it. He knows her too well by now, the way her words can be sweet and easy, and her eyes burdened with much more. It twists his heart every time.

Steve knows she tries to shoulder what she can of his dark moods, tries to shine a light on them while pretending it doesn't hurt her to see him brooding. He long ago began training himself not to acknowledge guilt over that, because it was what Darcy wanted to do, what she'd always wanted to do for him even before they fell in love. She hadn't wanted anything else then, she'd just wanted to make him smile. It's hard, but every time Steve wants to beat himself up for being such a sad weirdo around her, he reminds himself to be thankful for her instead.

"Better," He finally replies, actually smirking a little, "She's been through a lot, that gal...not sure I'd want to go around talking about an ex-lover I used to maim people with either, in her place," He sighs, tugging his t-shirt up over his head and tossing it aside, "She says he's been reprogrammed, Darce, but then she'll let slip some joke he made back in Moscow in '88, or the way he'd laugh, and," Steve shakes his head, watching the way her back arches as she rolls off her sports bra. "...It still sounds like the Bucky I used to know."

"Well," Darcy replies, gently, turning on the shower, "Clint was still Clint, everyone including him says. Not some mindless automaton zombie. His will, his goals and his values were what wasn't his any more." Steve nods once in allowance, sighing.

"...I guess I'm just afraid," He admits, quietly, following her into the spray. He loves watching the water soak through all of that hair of hers, his hands drawn to it immediately despite his melancholy, pulling his fingers through the wet strands, "That he'll either be too far gone to save, or..." He swallows, shaking his head, "That it really is him, and they broke him. That's kind of a worse thought, really."

"Don't dwell on that possibility, though," Darcy tells him quietly, just above the noise of the water, but firmly, "I mean, accept it could happen sure, but. They snapped Nat out of it, after all. Odds are way better that you'll get your best bud back," She gives him a little smile, reaching for the soap, and Steve can't help but catch her optimism, nodding, looking down as she soaps up his chest, the suds slipping over her arms and hands.

"You've gotta point there," Cap allows, his voice and mind suddenly wandering, watching her. He didn't know how people got used to this, could take it for granted. Maybe it was because everyone in his old world was gone (well, almost) and he'd treasured her as soon as he'd met her. Maybe it was because he'd waited so long. But the sight of Darcy in front of him, all wide eyes and bare curves and that smile of hers...the one that was always tentative at first, before bursting wide and soft across her lips, the one that's only for him...it never stops doing Steve in.

He tilts forward, lifting her up on one arm and bracing her against the wall. She's nothing to lift, not really, but he's still always gentle when he does, no matter how used to his strength he gets. Darcy giggles, but as their eyes meet the sound softens, her eyes half-lidding as Steve splays one hand over her scarred torso as he kisses her. He tries not to think of how the scars wouldn't be there, if she hadn't lived here. He tries not to think of how, if he'd just been able to hold onto his best friend, Bucky wouldn't be what he is now. Because Steve may have failed to save one of the most important people in his life, but he hadn't failed Darcy. Not yet.

And maybe he wouldn't fail Bucky again.

"Why do you put up with me?" He finds himself asking, pressing kisses against the side of her neck. He feels her hands pull through his wet hair, snagging briefly on the edge of her ring. Darcy hums against him, the sound blissful in his ear.

"...Totally the abs," She sighs, dramatically, and Steve can't help grinning. It's just what she does to him, "And, you know," Her voice hitches when his teeth drag across her neck, and it still astounds him, that he can do that to her, have her making those sounds just for him. "You're kind of the best person ever, handsome."

Steve doesn't have words to respond to that. And so he answers her another way, burying his face in her shoulder, blissfully losing himself in her. Letting her know that she's the only place he wants to be.

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They cap off their evening in with, of course, a movie. Darcy decides to go fluffy this time as it's valentine's day, while still somehow in keeping with their current theme. Which is difficult, as most romantic films taking place during wartime don't end well. She almost opts for Atonement, because hey, up until the last twenty minutes, which would make a saint want to slit their own wrists, it's pretty damn romantic. She ends up settling on something much lighter by far, though, and pops in the first Narnia film.

"Technically it totally counts as a World War 2 movie," Darcy maintains, despite Steve's raised brow over the case cover, "Oh come on, I thought you read the books!"

"I'm too busy working on Lord of The Rings," Steve smirks, "When I'm not saving the world. Or watching movies with my girlfriend."

"Touche, soldier," Darcy rolls her eyes, grinning. "You'll like it, promise."

There's some things they'll do, or watch, that will turn Steve Rogers into a complete and utter kid again. Considering recent events, Darcy's pretty proud of the fact that she's managed to get that reaction from him tonight. He's leaning forward on the couch from the first frame on, elbows on his knees, a progressively happier grin on his face. Darcy has to admit, too, there's something about watching any version of Narnia when there's snow outside. Even with what's going on in their world, it's cozy and comforting. Hell they're even drinking cocoa tonight instead of beer.

"That was beautiful," He murmurs, sitting back against the cushions, draining his third mug in one go, smacking his lips. Darcy just smiles around hers, pleased, snuggling close to his side. "We haven't really watched a lot of things with kids from my day in 'em, in color anyway."

"Mmm, and British kids at that," Darcy chuckles, "Man, if I could be guaranteed a Lucy Pevensie, I'd have no hang-ups about kids ever." As soon as she said it though, Darcy winced. Way to go, Lewis. Steve just smirks a little, looking down at his empty mug.

"Even if we could Darce, they uh, wouldn't be British," He points out, and Darcy snorts.

"Well, you know, we could cultivate the accent! Oh man, could you imagine that? The press would have a field day," She waves her hands, "Captain America's Unpatriotic Rugrat, Attending English Boarding School!" She pauses, as he chuckles, biting her lip. Oh why not, "...And we still can, actually. Someday." He blinks at her. "...I'll spare you ALL the gristly details, handsome. But they can still mix up the ingredients...just need a willing oven." She grins, biting her lip. Classy.

"...Huh." Steve blinks, letting that sink in, "...So, there are women who don't mind...?"

"Carrying a baby who isn't theirs? Totally, and it can be great money." Darcy nods, "Some people do it really casually, but I'm sure for Captain America's spawn, SHIELD would like, screen every likely incubator up, down, and sideways before clearing her," She grins at the notion, before noticing the sudden dazed, amazed, and way too intrigued look on Steve's face. Uh oh.

"...Five years at least babe, one step at a time here." Darcy gulps, turning pale. Which makes him bust out laughing.

"Aw hell, way our lives are, we may never want to have a kid," He allows, sighing, slinging a big arm over her shoulders. "...It's nice to know, though."

"I guess. Honestly, I'm surprised I even developed feelings for your dog." At the sound of one of his many names, Volstagg lifts his head, lazily flopping his tail by their feet. "Never been or wanted to be particularly maternal." Darcy can't help smiling though, because they're cozy, they're not thinking about horrible things, and Steve is happy for a little while, "...Unless we get a Lucy."

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The elevators behind them slide open, then, admitting a Norse god in a tux, with a tiny physicist in a sparkly dress tossed over his shoulder, "Darcy!" Thor calls out, grinning, while Jane giggles like a not-very-sober person, "Do we have fresh bread and cuts of beef?" Darcy chuckles, looking over the back of the couch.

"Always, Sir," Jarvis answers before Darcy can. Thor beams, dropping Jane next to the pair of them.

"Excellent! My lady needs a sandwich." And he promptly began rummaging in the kitchen. Darcy and Steve both look Jane over, amused. She looks very gorgeous, and very, very drunk.

"Gooooood night?" Darcy grins, and Jane nods, biting her lip.

"Everyone liked my speech," She says, deliriously, drunkenly pleased, "And then I did shots with Dr. Tyson and the First Lady."

"Ah," Steve is the one who smirks then, shaking his head, "Yeah, don't go toe to toe with Michelle. She drank Tony under the table last time we were there." Darcy snuggles in with her best friend, humming, totally not even finding the conversation weird anymore.

"Goodness, whatever am I going to do with all you amazing, brilliant and important people, mmm?" Darcy was happy, though. It was a good night, and everyone was happy for a few hours, and she had the feeling that they'd be tied up with unhappy things for a little bit longer, until this mission ended. Happy was good. Happy was to be savored.

Especially if it was only for a little while.

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The following day, three of the X-Men arrive at Stark Tower, to report their findings to Director Fury in person. Darcy wonders later, when she finds herself with far too much free time to think in a dark, cold cell, if the wires in the bad guys' communication had been crossed, for them not to realize that reinforcements were in the Tower. Maybe they wanted a good hard fight. Maybe they were counting on added chaos. But if Darcy had to bet, thinking back on it, perhaps it had been meant as a cruel reminder that no matter what, no matter how many people they had, they could still lose.

Because when she heard the explosions, gunfire, and shouting as they filed out of the briefing room, Darcy had actually felt more than confidant, drawing the gun at her hip and following agents and super-people into the action. New York had the Avengers, Wolverine, Nightcrawler and Shadowcat watching over them, all at once. Nothing was supposed to be able to get through that, right?

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	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still feel the need to apologize for this chapter, even months later >.> Meep.

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Despite all she's been through since New Mexico, there are few moments in the past year wherein Darcy has felt like a legitimate badass. She's been competent. She's been a great assistant. And as far as understanding physics goes, she's definitely exceeded expectations, Harry Potter style. But today, for the very beginning of the attack at least, Darcy feels like she could possibly be a badass.

"Perimeter breach," Some wounded agent's voice crackles over Fury's communicator, just after the sounds of gunfire and shouting break out in the halls, and an explosion rocks the building from somewhere below them.

"Oh, you think?" Tony's already stepping into his armor as they purposely file out of the briefing room, shouting at no one in particular, "STOP BLOWING HOLES IN MY SHIP!"

"Winter Soldier spotted," Maria Hill's creepily steady voice follows on the coms, "Heading for the armory."

"Do not engage!" Fury gave a meaningful nod to Steve, whose expression had smoothed into his mission-leader-face, "Cap, might have to adjust your original plan for getting at your buddy."

"Yessir. Hawkeye, Widow, with me," He motions to the two of them, who'd also suddenly become the versions of themselves who kicked ass and saved the world on a regular basis. Steve turns to Darcy, giving her the briefest of kisses, eyes fixed on hers for a quick moment. "Stay safe."

"You first," She whispers back, and then they were going opposite directions. Captain America down through the Tower to potentially beat up his best friend, Darcy into the thick of the gunfire.

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The glassy, glowing eyes of the shooters are downright creepifying, to everyone. "Like fighting fucking ghosts," Wolverine growls at Darcy's back, and she hears the edge of unease to the big man's voice. From their briefing, Darcy's aware that the girl who's gone missing from the Institute is something of a daughter-figure to the gruff bastard. He's searching every face they bring down, but ninety percent of them look to be your cliché henchmen types, only much, much more competent. Worse, though, are the few who look perfectly normal, eyes clear, and intent on killing them. Whoever brought them together, apparently all some needed was the promise of a paycheck and quality mayhem to sign over their guns.

Darcy's glad she threw the bullet-proof vest on over her uniform suit.

Logan, meanwhile, is riddled with holes that just keep healing over. "Yanno, you think I'd be used to that," She shouts, as the two of them move through the halls back to back, Kurt -bamfing- around them, moving up toward the labs. That's Darcy's post, she's been informed. Because she's a scientist first now, and a SHIELD agent second, thus, her gun protects the labs. "But you scab over a lot faster than Steve."

"One of the all natural parts, darlin', that's why," Wolverine winks, turning and taking down a huge Eastern-European looking brute, claws going up through the chin, "Sick of that boy-scout yet? Cause my offer from Halloween still stands."

"I like boy-scouts, Wolvie," Darcy maintains, as Kurt catches an assassin, with fashion taste similar to Nat's, in a dynamite sleeper hold, "Only room for so much snark in my relationships." He busts out laughing, while engaging in bloody violence, and Darcy thinks that yeah, he totally would have been her type, pre-Steve anyway.

"Yeah? Well..." Logan's words die though, when a figure darts across the hall in front of them, full-tilt. She's a blur of black, yellow and pink, but he seems to recognize her instantly. "JUBES!" He shouts, taking a step forward, and then looking back, torn for a moment.

"Go!" Kurt urges him, "Ve'll make it to ze lab." Logan nods once, fixing Darcy with a steady stare, before diving into a run after Jubilee.

"Good luck, hairy!" Darcy calls after him, making Kurt chuckle. "Right, we've got a couple more floors..." Just then, her comm starts buzzing, Betty Ross' voice crackling to life.

"We need more people in the labs!" She calls, voice even, yet highly alarmed, and Darcy could hear Jane shouting something in the background. Her heart seems to freeze, as the transmission begins to break up, "...Someone...glass, crystal forming...Foster..." And then it cuts out all together. Thor and Tony's voices follow from somewhere, but Darcy is already looking to Kurt.

"Think you can get us there faster?"

"Hold on," He takes her arm, and the two of them began flickering through the halls.

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Steve's become pretty quick with his uniform. He thought, once, about doing as Superman, the whole wearing it under his everyday clothes thing. But considering how little his suit breathes, that just seems like it would be really uncomfortable over the course of the day. Sometimes he wishes he could wave a hammer and summon it, like Thor, that would be ideal. Instead, he's just gotten fast. Nothing absorbs the bullets and the death rays quite like it, stars and stripes notwithstanding.

"What've we got, Jarvis?" Steve calls, lifting his shield to reflect the bullets coming towards him and Natasha. From somewhere above them, an arrow takes out the shooter.

"Multiple floors breached. I've sealed the living quarters though. They're holding," Steve breathes a sigh of relief, even though Darcy is in the midst of the fighting. Since the last attack on the Tower, Tony had devised for the whole upper floors to go panic room on command. Not very practical for the rest of the working Tower, but, at least his dog was all right, "Codename Winter Soldier is in the armory still. He appears to be placing explosives."

"That won't negate the use of blast doors upstairs at all," Clint's voice issues from above. Steve runs faster.

When they reach the open armory doors and the dead agents outside, Steve slows, frown deepening. The two men were put down by a shot to the head each, perfect aim. Captain America steels himself before moving forward, Natasha slipping from his side, as planned, like a silent shadow.

The rows of lockers and Stark prototypes are silent, but for a tinkering somewhere ahead, that someone isn't even bothering to hide. His shield held aloft, Steve moves between the piles of tech, holding it on faith that Clint and Nat are where they're supposed to be, as they don't make a sound. Finally, turning a corner, he finds his quarry leaning over a large red trunk, facing away from him, a sizable rifle slung across his back.

"Bucky!" Steve can't help calling out, and The Winter Soldier whirls, gun in his hands, scope on his best friend.

"...Captain America," James Barnes grins behind the trigger, the eyes in his black mask clear and unclouded. He doesn't look much older, but his hair is longer, and even touched with gray in places. But even with half his face hidden by the eye mask, Steve knows it's him. He'd know him anywhere.

"...Who the hell is Bucky?"

"You are," Natasha drops down from one of the nearby gun lockers, landing soft and silent behind him. Steve watches, shield loose in his hands as Bucky takes in The Black Widow, gun raised but jaw gone slack.

"...I didn't want to believe it, but here you are," His voice goes rough, looking her over, "...What've they done with you, Nat?"

"Made me remember," She reaches toward him, as if to touch his shoulder, but his eyes narrow sharply. All at once, many things happen. He pulls the trigger, Natasha dodges, Steve's shield knocks the rifle out of his hands and a well-aimed tranquilizer hits The Winter Soldier square in the neck, dropping him like a bag of rocks. Cap kneels by him immediately, pushing back his cowl and rubbing a gloved hand over his face.

"...His eyes weren't glowing," He swallows, looking to Nat, as Hawkeye joins them on the floor, shouldering his bow, "His mind isn't under anyone's control..."

"That's because it was scrubbed clean a long time ago," Widow pats his shoulder, "Let's get him somewhere secure..."

She's cut off by the sound of Darcy screaming for Jane over Steve's com.

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Jane Foster might be brilliant, and she might be able to decently fire a gun now, but she isn't a SHIELD agent. As such, she knows well the protocol for her, Betty and Erik, and their interns when the Tower is compromised. Secure the equipment, and get the hell up to the penthouses and their shiny new blast doors. That had been the plan. Things didn't quite go as planned, though.

She, Betty and their intern Simon were the only ones in the upper lab, with the Foster Generator, when Stark Tower was attacked. The calculations they were testing that day had the machine all warmed up, and as the alarms started going off, both Jane and Betty were blurs in the office, turning knobs and typing in codes to shut it down, and fast. You just don't leave a wormhole generator on when you leave the house.

"Simon, get the hell out of here, tell Erik we're five minutes behind you," Jane barks and the skinny, bespectacled PhD-to-be hesitates only a moment, before nodding and sprinting for the stairwell. Betty smirks, smacking her monitor a few times as she scrambles to power things down.

"That'll be Bruce," She breathes, as a distant roar echoes up through the building, "Too close, whoever's here they're working their way up fast."

"We're faster," Jane says with conviction, grabbing her glock from her purse and shoving it into the back of her jeans. As she speaks, however, a chill blows through the lab, and looking toward the glass doors, Jane notes that some sort of crystal is forming over all, almost moving like ice, and it's already sealed them inside the lab.

"What in the world..." Betty trails off, jumping up and moving to the wall, touching the hard substance. Despite the cold in the room, Jane can see, as Betty knocks on the wall, that it isn't actually ice that's closing them in, but some kind of crystal. "...Any ideas?"

"Not the foggiest," Jane stares for a moment, until a movement in the corner of her eye makes her turn, looking toward the center of the now closed-in room. Black, gaseous smoke is threading, moving, taking the shape of a cloaked figure, something bright red and shining dangling from its wrist. The chill in the room gets harsher, and Jane can feel her teeth chattering, only half from fear.

"The machine," A deep, unfamiliar, growling male voice issues from somewhere under the dark, shifting cowl, "Turn it on."

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"What in the fuck..." Darcy trails off, as she and Kurt are stopped in their progress upwards by a cluster of clear, whitish crystals blocking up the stairwell. Kurt tries to teleport through it to the other side, which they can see clearly, but it's no dice. She's just about to call for reinforcements, when Thor and Shadowcat appear at her elbow, one with a hammer, one with the ability to walk through walls. "Communications are off for us," Darcy breathes, "You?"

"I cannot reach her, no," Thor growls, spinning Mjolnir in his hand, and then bringing it down onto the strange crystal. It cracks, but just barely. Kitty can't even get a pinky through it. "What is this magic?" Thor hisses, bringing his hammer down again, cracking it further. It was making progress on the substance, but again, not fast enough to give any of them satisfaction. Below them, the gunfire was dying out, replaced by a thunderous footfall pounding its way upwards. "My friend!" Thor calls out, just as the Hulk makes his appearance, and Darcy swallows hard.

She knows Bruce. She knows that once, when she'd almost died, The Hulk had saved her life. She's still never, in her conscious memory, faced his alter ego in person. He seems fine enough, trudging up to them, just...really, really big and green. He eyes the crystal for a long moment, before looking at Darcy directly.

"Betty?" He asks, in his booming voice. Darcy nods.

"Yes. Betty is through there." She says clearly. And then leaps out of the way as a giant green fist blasts its way through the strange substance.

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"No." Jane says evenly, lifting her chin, not letting her eyes leave the figure before her. He takes form slowly, details becoming clearer the more she looks. He wears a flowing, blackish, greyish cloak, which is always somewhat blurry along the edges, and his face isn't ever seen. A glass vial hangs from his arm, and all Jane can think of is a reliquary, the kind used by the most committed of mediums, only his is actually swirling with red clouds behind the glass.

"I must...go home..." His voice echoes, urgent now, "The deceiver led me here, and then closed...DESTROYED! ...the Bifrost behind him. I must...go home." Jane licks her lips, nodding. She can work with this.

"If Loki abandoned you here," She says, evenly, "Thor will gladly see you home. You needn't do this by force, and his way is far more accurate than mine. Please..."

"The Odinson will never see me home," The voice replied, amused, the hand raising. As if in some needless show of power, he sends a bolt of lightening crackling through the closed-off lab. Jane shouts, as it strikes one of the computers near Betty, sending a shock through her, that has the poor woman crumbling to the ground, twitching.

"I seek to claim. I failed once, in this very place. I will not again. The warriors on Midgard. The Warriors Three. The remaining Fiercest of the Chitauri. They will be mine. And I will claim all worlds. With this," He waves a reverent hand over Jane's life work, and she growls back.

"...Over my dead body," She hisses, drawing her gun with one hand, and reaching into her machine with the other. She and Betty are cut off, there are no heroes coming fast enough, and her machine is still humming, warming up behind her.

Distantly, she finds herself eternally thankful for the idiocy of super villains, and their habit of babbling on about their intent. She yanks a panel out of the generator, throwing it down to smash on the floor, crushing it under her boot for good measure.

Her life's work, shattered, as she fires her gun.

The figure raises his arm, defensively, and as such the bullet shatteres the glass reliquary on his arm. He screeches, hissing, raising his other hand and sending a blast of red, fiery energy at the slender, fierce scientist.

She catches the blast square in the chest, dimly aware of the nearby wall shattering, the figure dissipating as it does in a rage, and Darcy's voice, screaming her name.

Jane Foster's last thought in this world is of the swirling of the universe, as a steady, strong arm carried her across the cosmos, to a shining paradise he called home...

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Hulk destroys the crystal barriers in two mighty swings. Darcy charges forward, hurried on by Nightcrawler and his ability to spirit her forward to the furthest plane in sight. She's just in time to see the barriers around the upstairs lab crackle and fall to pieces, a shadow spirited away, and Jane's limp form falling to the floor.

"JANE!" Darcy screams, leaping away from Kurt and toward her friend. She's vaguely aware that Betty is nearby, her chest rising and falling, and looking back to her best friend, as Darcy takes her head in her lap, there's no such movement.

No breath. No heartbeat.

Darcy's chest starts seizing, her breath unable to move through her lungs. There's no pulse. Jane is dead. Jane's dead. Jane. Dead.

"NO!" Darcy isn't aware that her com is on as she screams, clutching the body close, shaking her, her face crumbling. Jane can't be dead. Jane is too strong. Her best friend, Jane. Too smart. Jane, who came to her parents' house for Hanukkah, 2011.

Jane, whom Darcy wanted to be when she grew up.

Jane, who was supposed to marry Thor and have his half-alien babies and live happily ever after and...

"NO!" She screams again, as a pair of strong arms drag her away from the body. Steve's arms, she registers, distantly, by the color of the uniform, "She can't! She shot it, and...She can't!"

"Darcy, she's gone," He whispers to her, his voice cracking. There's blood on his uniform, she sees. He fought his way up. He was down in the armory, and fought all the way up to her, to them...

A roar tears through Stark Tower, then, and it doesn't belong to the Hulk. The God of Thunder is gathering up his lovers' body, and yelling to the heavens, which are exploding in lightening.

Darcy wishes she had that power, to let loose how she feels, digging her nails into Steve's arms, dissolving into sobs.

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	7. Chapter 7

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It storms in New York for a week, nonstop. Thankfully, despite being out of season, the city knows how to deal with rain and ice. The Avengers don't really know to deal with a grieving alien god, however. As Thor doesn't seem much inclined to anyone's company, and hasn't destroyed anything, most of SHIELD seems to let him do as he must. Which seems to involve sitting atop the roof of Stark Tower for days, head bent, Mjolnir across his knees, while the storm rages around him.

Darcy knows it's selfish, but she wishes he'd come down and give her one of his big bear hugs, and then they could be miserable together. Erik is heartbroken, yet he's inclined to drunken denial, burying himself in bottles of vodka and then rambling on and on about Jane when she was a little girl, as if she's just gone on a long holiday. Darcy understands, she does. Erik's kept an eye out for Jane ever since her father died, and it has to be easier to numb himself than to acknowledge he hadn't been able to protect her.

As for Darcy, she does what she's always done after a loss. She puts up her walls, and dives into doing things...at least during the day. And right now, that's putting the labs back together, cleaning up the Tower, and reporting to Bruce and Tony, who are among the remaining, functioning science nerds. At first they absolutely refuse to utilize her assistant skills, telling her to go home, take some time off. Betty is much more astute, however, and gives Darcy her coffee order and a stack of notes on the attack to catalog. The men get the hint.

At night, she's a wreck. At night, Darcy collapses on the couch, not moving until Steve comes back from interrogating the captured assassins or trying to get through to Bucky. He gathers her up and lets her shake with sobs, soaking his clothes and leaving marks on his skin where she clutches at him. It's only for a couple of days, though, and then she forces herself to pull it together, to ask if he's making progress with Bucky, and Steve stares at her for a while, before answering that it isn't going so well.

"He suffered amnesia after the fall, and the freeze," Steve sighs, pulling his hands through her hair, "And instead of anyone trying to make him better, he was conditioned...the other way," He winces, as a rib snaps back into place. His best friend's metal arm can really do some damage.

Darcy draws him down to rest his head in her lap, "You'll get through. Utmost faith in you, handsome," She smiles, softly. She's not sure what to make of the troubled look in his eyes, other than it's been a pretty awful time all around.

But then he stops coming home at night.

At least, not until she's already asleep, curled up tight in their bed. Darcy feels Steve slip in a few times, convinced she's still asleep. His arms wrap around her tight then, his head pressed against her shoulder, and his breathing goes ragged and uneven. She's not sure if he actually sleeps at all. A few times, there's a warm dampness that sinks in through her t-shirt sleeve. And then he leaves early in the morning, before she's up, always kissing her cheek gently.

Darcy really doesn't know what to make of it asll, other than to wallow in the fact that now she doesn't have her boyfriend around for much commiserating either. They were good at commiserating, she thought, bouncing woes off each other. No longer, it seems.

And the storm rages on outside.

After a week has passed, Natasha happens to walk by the labs, and Darcy darts up from her desk to intercept her. "Natasha," She calls, and the super spy turns, actually giving Darcy a small smile, "How are things going down there? Awful?"

"...Not entirely," Black Widow tilts her head to the side, thoughtfully. "Barnes is as smarmy as ever, and I'm not sure if we'll find a way to bring back his memories from before the war," She sighs, shaking her head, "...He's fairly forthcoming with what he knows about our smoky enemy, though, after a few failed goes at Tony with that arm."

"Huh..." Darcy blinks, scratching her head, "...How's Steve?" Nat's brows loft.

"He's either in the cell, or sitting just outside of it, scribbling, all day, trying to think of which approach to take next..." The spy looks hard at Darcy, crossing her arms, "Hasn't he been home?"

"...Not til really late," Darcy admits, sighing.

"I'll see about kicking his ass for you."

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The next day is Jane's memorial service. Having no family left, it's a small affair outside of the city, mostly attended by super-people in civilian clothes. Darcy can't bring herself to give a eulogy, instead remaining by Steve, who's surprisingly present again, and affectionate, if quiet. His arm never leaves her shoulders. Thor isn't anywhere to be seen, however Darcy spots Sif in the crowd, burdened with a large offering of flowers whose genus Darcy couldn't possibly name. The physicist is also given a proper Asgardian farewell by the Warriors Three.

"I wish Thor had seen that," Darcy murmurs, quietly, as they ride home in one of Tony's cars.

"I think he did," Steve replies, just as quietly, a sad expression fixed into his smile. "He said he'd be saying goodbye in his own way."

He's with her all through the wake in the penthouse, as Darcy gets good and drunk with Tony, Pepper and Bruce, telling every goofy, embarrassing story about Jane Foster she can think of. It helps, it really does. The rain outside is slacking, as people can't help but share good memories of the tiny scientist who's helped change the world.

The sharp stabbing in Darcy's chest over her death is now a dull ache. Jane had always pushed her to be better, had believed she could accomplish things, and half-way through her third scotch, Darcy decides that her boss and best friend would likely be pretty annoyed if she stayed a mess over losing her, even if it was in the privacy of her own apartment. An ache was okay. An empty place in her life where someone amazing had been, fine. But as the old cliché went, life and super villains didn't take a vacation.

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That night, she and Steve make love again, and there's a fire to it, a desperate, wonderful heat that has them grappling with each other in the sheets, each trying to prove to each other how alive and present they are. That they didn't take each other, living and breathing, for granted. Steve is still clutching her, almost too tight, leaving little marks behind, and Darcy kind of beats herself up for not realizing how Jane's death has hit -him-, so convinced he was taken up entirely with Bucky's situation. Jane died, where Darcy works every day.

She vows to make a point, from now on, to be more mindful of how Cap must worry about her, every day. Sure, Darcy can much better take care of herself now, but the fact remains that she's still squishy compared to superheroes and their villains. She wraps herself tight around him that night, far more steady going forward.

It had been the worst week of Darcy's life, but it was going to get better. Hopefully.

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When Darcy's called into Fury's office the next morning, she's met with a measured expression from the man, his hands folded in front of him. He looks too nice, too, at least for him. The usual fierceness isn't there, and that unsettles Darcy more than anything.

"Agent Lewis, you're being temporarily reassigned."

"...What." Darcy blinks, staring at the man blankly. Fury takes a low breath, looking down at the papers before him.

"The command panels that Dr. Foster destroyed on the Foster Generator need rebuilding, and that will be happening far from this Tower," He explains, his voice crisp and boding no argument, "We're sending yourself and Dr. Ross to one of our hidden bases up north to do the work."

"That...makes no sense, like at all," Darcy shakes her head, incredulous, "First of all, the generator is -here-, second, Erik and Bruce know way more about Jane's research than I do, and third..." Well, her third isn't very solid, but even so, "This is my home, that lab is where I work..."

"We think it best that outside forces go on thinking the generator is irreparable without Dr. Foster, at least for now. They'll only buy that for so long, with Stark here." Okay, granted, Darcy thinks, "And you are a walking dictionary on her notes, if what Dr. Banner says is true." That, though, is barely a justification. Darcy's eyes narrow, even as her stomach drops, a sick feeling growing in her stomach.

"...Who told you to reassign us?" She asks, bluntly. Fury's gaze goes hard, even as his hands relax, fingers unwinding from each other.

"No one -tells- me to do anything, Agent Lewis," He replies, pointedly. After a long, pregnant pause, however, he does go on. "...Though some parties have been known to make formal requests. You leave for Alberta this afternoon."

"Yessir," She growls, rising, fairly proud of her ability to storm the fuck out of a room.

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Darcy hasn't ever been down to what the Avengers so fondly call 'the brig'. Most of the simple, small cells are empty. Most of the attackers who survived the fight had broken free of the mind control when Jane destroyed the reliquary, many of them having been ex spies who'd moved on with their lives. A few, however, like Bucky, hadn't any lives beyond the next job. And apparently, their new adversary had offered to pay them very well.

She didn't much care about all that at the moment, however, stalking straight toward the figure perched in a folding chair outside of Winter Soldier's cell. Steve is intent on something in his sketchbook, until he hears her uniform boots on the floor, looking up. Darcy's kind of satisfied by the 'oh shit' look on that perfect, studly face of his.

"You had me reassigned?" She's also really proud of how she asks this harshly, without actually yelling. Steve's expression goes serious then, and a little hard, as he stands, looking her in the eye.

"...It's temporary," He says, and Darcy throws up her hands, as he confirms what she was still hoping wasn't true. "Darcy," He reaches for the tops of her arms, and she glares up at him, covering the fact of how it scares her that his voice is so controlled, how guarded his eyes are, "You need to be away from the Tower for this one, it's not..."

"I NEED to be here!" Her voice is raising, and so what if it is, she thinks. He's passed the point of understandable irrationality, and actually FORCED her to go. She can sure as hell be irrational right back, "How am I ever supposed to become -better- at keeping myself alive, Steve, if you go over my head -to my boss-, and have me carted off to the bumfuck middle of nowhere every time things get hot?!"

"Jane's DEAD, Darcy!" He shouts, and she winces. He's never lost his temper at her, and it's like a blow. Steve cringes too, reaching up and running both hands through his hair, "...And I've almost lost you once, that can't...it can't happen again." And for all Darcy has sympathy for the fact that he's lost most everyone dear to him, that his best friend is a brainwashed killer, at the moment, he's passed ridiculous.

"And I have come SO far since then, you know it!" She shoots back, standing her ground, "They made me an Agent, and before that I was still your girlfriend, I KNOW what that means, Steve! It means either of us could be dead at any time! It's what I signed on for WAY before I got this uniform!" At that, he nods, dragging a hand over his face, and it isn't very reassuring.

"I know," He whispers, looking at her again, his expression so very pained it sends a jab straight through her heart, despite herself, "I love you, sweetheart, so maybe I want you to remember what life is like away from this place." 'Away from me', hangs in the air. Darcy presses her lips together, hard, willing herself not to shed the saltwater welling up in her eyes, not to double over because that hit her like a physical blow.

"Empty." She turns on her heel, and she knows she's being a bitch, but...again, he fucking crossed the line. He's -forced- her to go. Right after her best friend's died, his is back but damaged, and they should need each other more than ever. Steve's making her leave. "You want me gone, I'm gone," She growls, stalking back down the hall.

He makes some strangled sound behind her, but Darcy doesn't turn, not even when she's in the elevator, going up. Not 'til the doors slide closed. Then she lets herself cringe, curling into herself, shutting her eyes tight.

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By the time she's about to go up and meet her chopper with Betty, Darcy's regretting how they parted, mad as she still is at Captain America. She hopes he'll see her off, but just in case he doesn't, she scrawls a note on one of her Sailor Moon post-its, leaving it on the pillow. She snuggles Volstagg, giving the mutt a goodbye belly-rub, before hauling up her faded dufflebag and heading for the elevators, to the roof.

As she feared, Steve isn't there to say goodbye, and it almost makes her break down again. Darcy holds it together though, lifting her chin and giving a wan smile to Betty, who looks about as amused by all this as Darcy feels. Superhero boyfriends, fucking seriously.

A few surprises are waiting for her though, in the form of Natasha actually giving her a hug ('I swear I won't let him forget this' she hisses in Darcy's ear), Wolverine waiting by the helicopter with a smirk ('They want someone not assigned to New York going along, sorry gals'), and perhaps best of all, Thor.

She'd been too distracted, to realize that the sky was clear today, a crisp, blue winter's day. Thor looks on the other side of drained, his usual bursting, amazing, optimistic energy barely even there. But he smiles at her, gathering Darcy up in what is probably the most gentle hug he's ever given her. "Be safe, Darcy. Come back in one piece." He murmurs, setting her down. Darcy bites her lip, almost unable to hold herself together, looking up at him. She takes his big hand, squeezing it tight.

"I love you, big guy...tell him I love him," She whispers, and he wordlessly presses his other fist to his chest, swearing.

Darcy and Betty are quiet as they leave, and Logan seems to respect their silence. He doesn't even make a single comment, when Darcy touches the ring on her finger, finally triggering the breakdown that was threatening, burying her face in her hands and dissolving into sobs.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Logan isn't great with boundaries. Steve has a hero complex. Darcy just wants a hug.

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Steve Rogers really is amazing at giving himself a guilt trip. He'd thought that doing the right thing, that pushing Darcy to leave would negate some of the things he regularly beats himself up over...her safety being the big one, him being fully distracted by his best friend the other. But of course, it helps precious little, much as he maintains that it was the right thing to do. He's still worrying about her, all the time. And he only attempts sleeping in his bed alone once.

Nope, Cap is definitely not feeling any better with his fiance (God, if she'll still have him, one day) far away from the action, and with very limited contact. Part of him both hopes and dreads that she won't come back to New York, of her own accord. He never wants Darcy Lewis to face a psychopath with a weapon and a plot for world domination ever again. And if that means she leaves him...

...But no. He might be known as a good man, a hero all around, but even Steve Rogers isn't that selfless, that good. He wants her to always be his, and he wants her to never be in danger again. He knows one or both of these things are completely irrational.

He misses her something awful before even forty-eight hours have passed. She didn't pack much, clothes, a few books, and her laptop, as if fully expecting to be back in a week. Steve almost can't handle it, sliding a hand over the candlesticks on the table, a cardigan left hanging off the back of a chair. She's everywhere in his apartment, their apartment, her presence lingering.

He rereads the pink and yellow post-it she left over and over.

'Sorry I yelled. I'm still pissed and you're still being a big ol' dumb. But I love you.'

It's all making him very unpleasant to be around, Steve's aware of this. He's torn apart half the gym, cracked his knuckles on Iron Man's faceplate, and is getting progressively more surly in the interrogation room. Finally Tony snaps at him, because the man can only remain understanding of such jerkery in the wake of sad things for so long.

"Look, we get that things kinda blow for you Ken-doll!" he shouts across the gym, retracting the somewhat dented armor he'd been training in, as Steve sees to his bleeding hand, "But you're the one who kicked her out, not any of us, so kindly stop taking it out on the people who actually like you. No, like is too strong a word right now," Tony raises a hand, in response to Cap's half-hearted glare, "We lovingly tolerate you, at the moment."

Steve tries and fails to shoot back anything in his defense. He knows the only person he should be beating up is himself.

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"Lookin' like hell, Cap," Bucky notes, sitting back on his plain metal bunk in his cell, twiddling his thumbs. Seated across from him in the one chair in the room, Steve watches with a deep frown. The bionic digit dancing with the natural one, his voice touched with a slight accent that echoes Natasha's. "You know I'm willing to play nice, why d'you keep gettin' angry that I can't remember a life I'm supposed to've lived, mm?"

"Because no, we -don't- know for certain that you'll play nice, not yet," Steve reaches up, rubbing his eyes. He's going on four days without sleep now, he's going to need to force himself to rest sometime soon. "Nat says you were getting unpredictable, the last time you two worked together." His friend shrugs.

"I barely remember that mission...so maybe," Bucky turns his eyes to the ceiling, thumbs still twiddling. He doesn't like talking about Black Widow though, which Steve had thought, at first, might be a chink in the armor, but all poking that particular wound does is make the Winter Soldier ornery, and no less forgetful. The subject unsurprisingly changes, "Is this about that girl who was yelling at you last week?" Bucky grins, and it's so familiar, Steve can't help the way his gut churns, hopefully.

"Guess so," Steve notes, evenly, smirking a little, "Never was one for understanding the dames, though. That was always your area of expertise." James Barnes' grin goes wide.

"Yeah? Sounds right," He nods once. And then pauses, his eyes losing focus, frowning. "...Until the serum." He says, slowly, his voice dropping an octave. Steve blinks, leaning forward slightly, "...After that damn serum, I was invisible next to you, Steve..." A corner of his mouth turns upward, right before he doubles over, clutching his skull as if it were trying to split in two.

"Someone, get Widow in here!" Steve barks toward the closed door, reaching for his buddy.

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If circumstances were different, Darcy would fall head over heels in love with the site in Alberta, at least from the outside. The unassuming cabin is tucked between high mountains, the snow thick, the nearby lake frozen solid. Sure, there are SHIELD agents in the picturesque evergreens, and if one were to yank on a shelf in a certain closet inside, the elevator down to the massive bunker would show itself. But the cover is pleasant. It'd be a lot more pleasant if Steve were there, of course, but, if wishes were horses...

"This is way more nature than I'm used to," Darcy notes that night, piling on three sweaters, while Logan starts an honest-to-Thor fire in the stone fireplace. The cabin is tiny inside (there aren't even bedrooms, just a living room and kitchen, they all sleep in the bunker), so it heats quickly, but still. "Nature needs to be warmer."

"This? This is nothing," Wolverine snorts. Darcy rolls her eyes.

"Says the mutant." She goes back to taking stock of the cupboards, while the handful of agents who've been stationed there for ages, keeping this area clear, move in and out the front door with Stark equipment. Down below, Betty is setting up her corner of the lab, and Darcy leaves her to it. She's been around scientists for long enough, she knows far too well how they like their everything just right. "...So how did you really get stuck out here playing guard dog for a couple of SHIELD damsels?"

Logan pauses, giving her a look. Darcy knows she still looks like shit. Her eyes are still red and raw behind her glasses, her face splotchy, hair in a messy ponytail, her layers making her a shapeless lump. His smile goes downright soft, and the big mutant lets out a long sigh, "...Jubilee's having a hard time, comin' back from the shit they put her head to. And for once, I'm the last mug she wants to see right now," He gives Darcy a wince, "Kinda...has jumbled memories of me havin' to stop her with a well-placed claw. Actually asked Chuck myself, if there was any work needed doin', far away."

"Damn," Darcy nods, leaning back against the kitchen counter, watching the logs catch, "Way you talked about her in the briefing, she sounds really special to you."

"She is," Logan nods, also looking into the fire, his eyes guarded, but his voice easy, "Kinda got a soft spot for obnoxious orphans," He smirks, looking back her way, raising a brow. "You really enough of a brain to fix Foster's machine?"

"I know stuff," Darcy says flatly, "But no. Not by myself. Steve...wanted me away from the fight." At that, Logan laughs, smacking his leg.

"Ha! Bet you loved that," He tapers off with a chuckle. But noticing the way she looks down at her sneakers, anxiously spinning the ring on her finger, he presses his lips together. "Hey, kiddo," She glances up at him, through her hair, and hey, Wolverine's not such a bad guy, looking at her steadily,"It might've been a dick move, but I can't say I haven't done things just as stupid to protect someone I loved."

"...I feel...marginally reassured," Darcy smirks.

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"He's remembering so slowly," Natasha murmurs, nursing a vodka-tonic on the couch. She's wearing Clint's pj pants again, and has her feet tucked under the sharp-shooter's legs, which Steve takes as a good sign. He's not one to ask about the details of their strange, convoluted relationship, that's Darcy's forte. At that thought, he cringes.

It just isn't getting any easier.

"He's remembering, though," Steve reminds her from the other end of the couch, eyes on the screen in front of them, only half-absorbing this episode of Band of Brothers. Darcy had left the discs, still sealed in their plastic, by the tv. He reaches up, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "It's like every time I see him, there's so much more he knows about, recalls."

"Yes," Nat nods, "However, in the past, when the conditioning would weaken, it would be like a traumatic torrent. Winter Soldier did some damage at those times," She winces, "And then James Barnes would feel bad about it. And then he'd be gone again."

"Maybe this time something was different," Clint suggests, quietly, resting a hand in her hair, "He did say he didn't remember being activated."

"Just coming aware in the middle of the woods in Europe about a year ago, mhmm." Steve squints.

"A year without a relapse, until he came here," Nat takes a long swig of her drink, "I want to know who's been at his head."

"After we find out who's trying to get at everyone else's, and killed Jane trying," Clint reminds them both, and there's a collective sigh of resignation, and frustration.

"...God it's been gloomy around here lately." Hawkeye points out. Nat smirks, without humor.

"It's because Thor's back home, smacking around Loki, let alone still mourning," Black Widow fixes Steve with a hard look, "Also, -someone- got our daily dose of sunshine sent to the middle of nowhere." Steve tries to send her a dirty look back, but...it kind of fizzles out and dies, and he just buries his face in his hands.

He ends up watching four hours of the series that night, eventually left to the screen and his thoughts and the light from the city seeping in through the windows. Steve's mind travels between the cell below, and somewhere in Canada, nowhere in between. He never thought it would be easier on -him-, having Darcy far from the carnage. No, he's still worrying about her constantly. The reality of it though is just so much to bear. And now he's still got someone he's trying to take care of at home.

And there's no Darcy at the end of his day anymore, with her easy smile and soothing hands, wry humor as a balm, to take care of him. To wrap her arms around him, kiss everything better, and listen to him ramble himself to sleep.

Steve reaches into his shirt pocket, pulling out the drawing he keeps on him at all times. He unfolds the thick paper, torn from his sketchbook, staring at the face smirking up at him. There are plenty of actual pictures of Darcy around, but this is his favorite. His talisman, his lucky charm, the day he'd sketched her in the gym, pinup style, in her boxing gloves and shorts. Back against the ropes, she gives him that tough, pouty mug, her hair tousled.

He still stubbornly believes he's done the right thing by her. But...Steve sighs, tucking the drawing back away, close to his heart. That girl he drew is anything but helpless. And he needs her.

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Darcy's always been good at distracting herself from unpleasant things by keeping busy. Granted, in highschool when her gran was getting sick and her best friend went away to rehab, busy had meant writing a lot of Star Wars fanfiction and making a decapitated Jar-Jar Binks costume for Comicon, but still. It was something. Now, keeping busy means trying to reserve and rebuild her best friend's legacy, and while she mightn't be the best person for the job, nobody in the world is more dedicated to the notion.

Jane's notes are backed up on Darcy's laptop, organized by date, easily cross-referenced, and even color-coded according to which function they referred to on the generator. Betty lets out a long whistle, scrolling through the files. "I mean I knew you were more competent than you let on," The older woman smirks, "But this is truly impressive. You really will make my job easier."

"It's still a thread-bare justification for actually sending -me-," Darcy grumbles. Betty shakes her head.

"You'll have to forgive him eventually, Darcy," Betty looks at her over her glasses, "You're not the only one in this room who's engaged to a bonehead. You get used to it."

"If he even wants me to come back..." Darcy swallows, not wanting to address that irrational fear. Betty doesn't push, and the two of them poke at their respective computers for a few moments, before Darcy blinks, looking up, "Wait. You and Bruce are engaged?" Betty takes pause, tilting her head.

"...Well, we were ten years ago, anyway," She amends. Darcy's jaw drops. The ethereal scientist just smiles, "Like I said. I am so used to forgiving that man for being a bonehead, you have no idea."

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Even with all of their resources and brilliant minds, though, the work is slow, tedious, and painstaking. Betty is the one bent over a pair of panels all day, that look like plain ol' hard-drives to Darcy, but which she knows are actually key tools in ripping holes in time and space. Darcy is the one constantly flipping back and forth through Jane's research, parroting what needs to happen next, until her eyes start to ache behind her glasses.

They're in touch with SHIELD, but it's very scant, and slow, messages traveling in and out of a billion and one codes to get to Jarvis and, eventually, the labs. They've been told its safer for both them and the research that way, but Darcy isn't an idiot. Protocol hasn't stopped Tony from sending them a few words, along with the data, now and then.

'Equation 2901 enclosed. D your bf broke his hand on my face.'

She didn't feel all that guilty about having a little swell of satisfaction over that news.

Tedious work, the same few faces every day (The agents kind of kept to themselves. Darcy got the impression, from the beards and the preoccupation with Hockey, that they'd been stationed here a while), and limited contact with the rest of their lives resulted in high tensions, they found, unless regular breaks got taken. Against advisement, Betty goes for a long walk at least twice a day. Logan becomes something of a lumberjack, felling trees and whittling at night with one long claw. And Darcy begins studying physics.

She wasn't supposed to start school again until the coming fall, but she'd already bought pre-homework homework back in New York, and brought it with her to the middle of nowhere. Darcy would bury herself in a chapter or five every night, after leaving the lab, curled up in front of the fire, Logan somewhere behind her in a pile of shavings, Betty giving her eyes a rest on the scratchy old couch. It was like some weird parody of a nuclear family, only with men in black patrolling outside with rifles.

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On the first evening of March, Darcy's reading by the window, because it's snowing outside and she loves watching it snow. She starts thinking of the first snow they'd had in New York though, after a bit. They'd been in Central Park for it, and she'd laughed at Steve for going total little-man-boy on her, trying to catch snow flakes on his tongue.

That twists something in her heart, hard, and she finds herself rummaging in her jeans, until she finds the poor, abused piece of paper she's carried on her for almost a year now. It's that same old self-portrait he'd done so long ago, back before the serum. She smooths it down onto the open book in front of her, his tentative eyes meeting hers. The skinny kid she fell in love with first. Darcy feels her chest tighten up, tilting forward and resting her face in her hands, trying to hold in a sob.

"Better to let those out," Logan's voice startles her, as he comes in from the snowy night laden with paper grocery bags. Sometimes he further pissed off their guard dogs by driving the hour into town for food all by himself. He rationalizes that hey, nobody expects the Mutant Inquisition. "You'll give yourself heartburn."

"We've got TUMS," Darcy maintains stubbornly, rising to help him put away the food. Logan shrugs, shaking his head. There's a fair amount of booze, as usual, which they both opt to leave out on the counter. Darcy goes through the boxes of snack foods automatically, shoving them into the cupboards. She pauses, though, staring at the package of cookies she's just grabbed.

She's fairly certain there's a way to figure out what the odds are, of finding that obscure Mexican brand of chocolate cookies in the asscrack of snowy nowhere, Canada. Right now though, it's the last straw, and for the first time since the flight to Alberta, Darcy doubles over and has a good hard cry.

Logan freezes, coffee halfway into the cabinet, blinking at her for a long moment. And then he's letting out a rough sigh, moving over and wrapping her up in a tight hug.

A hug. Darcy hasn't had a good and proper hug since Thor said goodbye. She wraps the poor man in a bear hug, pressing her face into his chest. Luckily, Wolverine is used to hugs and crying females, wrapping his big arms around her loosely.

What to do -after-, however, he's hit or miss on. Which is apparent when, having cried herself out, and Darcy pulls back, hands still bunched in his leather jacket ('Why do they all have to smell the same, whether in the frozen north or fresh out of a sealed box from 1943?'), a grateful little smile on her full, far too adorable lips, he decides that kissing her is the correct response.

Darcy's taken by complete surprise, freezing for a beat. And then she's almost letting herself indulge, because he's warm and rough and willing and...tall...and not Steve...and that's about when she pulls back and lands a punch to his adamantium jaw.

"OW, JESUS, FUCK!" She yelps, clutching her hand, and Logan busts out laughing, long and loud. "Seriously, dude!"

"Sorry, sorry!" He winces, pushing a hand through his wild hair, "It's just...you were crying." It's the worst excuse ever, but it makes Darcy laugh, even as she's cradling her poor fist.

"...Do you always comfort your friends with makeouts?!"

"Or booze," Wolverine smirks. Darcy shakes her head, landing a much softer fist on his shoulder, before reaching for the tequila. And then very quickly changing her mind, Logan chuckling behind her, and grabbing the gin instead.

"Laugh it up, fuzzball."

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Betty joins them on the floor before the fire after a while, and two bottles of gin later, between the three of them, the night doesn't feel as horrible as it had before. The dull ache is still in Darcy's chest, though, and all she wants in the world is Steve, there, now.

"Thing is," Logan murmurs, from the other side of the hearth, "Rogers hasn't seen the space of peace yet." He smirks, "Long, boring peace." Darcy squints, drunkenly inquisitive,and Wolverine goes on, "See, you got crazy fuckery right now. So did we. Just watch, though. Bad guys get the hint, you get oh, five, ten years of nothin'? Then they try again. And fail." He tosses back another shot.

"Welp," Darcy sighs, following his terrible example, "Here's to that distant day, I guess."

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	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Philip Mutherfucking Coulson.

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The next day Darcy sports a wicked hangover, and perhaps more acceptance of her situation. Logan might be all piss and vinegar, and, as she discovered last night, shit with boundaries on some points, but he has succeeded in giving her a little perspective on things. Plus there's the simple fact that the sooner they get these damn components rebuilt, the sooner she can storm back to New York and give Steve Rogers a piece of her mind. And then hopefully, a piece of a few other things.

"...The heat go out?" She asks, once the day has melted into evening. Darcy and Betty took their dinner down to the lab with them, and reaching for her fork, Darcy's found it to be ice cold. Betty looks up at the vents, frowning, tugging her cardigan closer.

"Ugh, not again," She sighs, gathering up her plate. "Better go back up to the fire 'til they have a look...wait." They both take pause, as noise begins to echo down from above them. Gun shots, Wolverine shouting for the two of them to stay in the bunker, and then the sound of his claws coming out.

"Fuck," Darcy dives for her bag, grabbing her gun and watching as familiar, white crystal begins forming, snaking down through the vents, around the edges of the elevator doors. She and Betty look at each other, and following a weird impulse that probably ends up saving her life, Darcy turns and takes aim at her own laptop, firing off a few rounds before the doors slide open.

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That same night in Stark Tower, Steve has made a terrible life decision. Having found Darcy's scribbled list of films in a cardigan pocket (he might have been trying to see if the smell of her shampoo still clung to it, guilty), he'd decided to pick one to watch, to see if it made him feel as if she were any closer. He'd picked the one titled 'Atonement', because there'd been a small heart by it on the list, as there'd been by Stalag 17.

Steve really wants to know Darcy's logic behind that one. He had expected another light-hearted bit of wartime humor. What he got instead was abject misery. Not to mention a fine example of a worst case scenario, regarding his own situation. "Okay, okay, I get the picture," He moaned into his hands, to no one in particular, as the film ended. Volstagg waddled over to flop onto his feet, nuzzling his ankles. The mutt has been annoyed with Cap ever since Darcy left, so this is a comfort. Steve reaches down, scruffing his ears, just before Fury's voice breaks through the dark calm of the Tower.

"Avengers, assemble in the briefing room. Dress warmly."

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"Ugh, really? Kidnapping? Don't they know this never ends in the bad guy's favor?" Are the first words Darcy groans out, rolling over in the darkness. It's warm, at least, and the mat she's lying on smells brand new, or at least freshly laundered. Well, way to break the mould there. The cell, from what she can see, is very much like their brig in the Tower. Small, pristine, with some kind of shiny, sterile steel making up the walls, ceiling and floor.

Her eyes adjust to the small amount of light coming in from somewhere near the doorway. There's another figure lying on another mat, across the room from her. A shapeless lump, rising unevenly with every breath, seemingly asleep. Betty is already up and standing, squinting through the eight-by-four sliver of a window in their vault of a door.

"Can you see anything?" Darcy asks, biting her lip. The last thing the recalls is gas filling the bunker, and suddenly becoming very well-acquainted with the floor, and then blackness. Betty sighs.

"Just more hallway," She murmurs, "They were dragging Logan by a little while ago, though. I don't want to know how they managed to knock out The Wolverine...he's alive, though."

"Awesome," Darcy swallows, mentally putting on her armor. Logan is a big boy, with incredible healing powers, she'll let herself worry about him once they know what's going on. She pushes herself up to stand, peering outside as well. The hall is just like the room, shining steel, no indication of what sort of structure they're being held in. "Well at least we know who's got us," She notes evenly, and Betty nods, "How did they know about the bunker, though?"

"I think he can probably answer that." Betty replies softly, nodding toward the figure in the corner. Her eyes now fully adjusted, Darcy creeps over to the mat softly, drawing back the edge of the blanket and barely holding in a cry of surprise, and distress. Lying there, his breathing shallow, his skin an almost deathly shade of pale, was Phil Coulson.

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Captain America is the first one off the jet, jogging across the snow with brisk purpose, his face stony. Behind him a slew of agents plus Clint and Bucky follow, the two sharp-shooters pretending they're not eying each other with vaguely veiled dislike. Tony and Natasha have remained in New York, in case someone thinks to take the Tower by surprise, but the emergency coms are silent as Steve scans the Alberta site.

The bodies of SHIELD agents are scattered outside of the cabin, black and red against the white snow. "He's got a good shot with him," Bucky notes, kneeling by one of the fallen agents, touching the wound at her temple lightly. He's come a long way since his first full memory returned. They're still keeping a close eye on him. But Steve really doesn't think he's just being optimistic by putting in a hard vote of confidence in his best friend, taking him out on recon. He really does see James Barnes behind those eyes now, where before it was as if someone else had taken over. Now he sees Bucky...a rougher, more jaded Bucky, but still. "We got a list of who's still missing from the big bad list of badasses?"

"Yeah, I need to give it another good look over, I think," Steve licks his lips, keeping his breathing even as he leads them forward, into the building. The cabin is a wreck inside, the signs of a scuffle everywhere. The furniture is toppled, shot through with bullets and clawed into here and there by Wolverine's distinctive claws. The cupboards are a mess of bullet holes as well, and every window is shattered. There's blood on the floors, and the panic starts rising in Cap's chest. He rushes toward the elevators, boots crunching over crushed crystal.

Blessedly, there's no blood in the bunker, aside from what was tracked down from above. There's a faint scent of some foul gas lingering, and it looks as if most of the equipment was taken...Steve pauses by Darcy's pink laptop, running a hand over the bullet holes. He can't help smirking, knowing she'd done it herself. The only other complete library of Jane's notes is back in New York, in a flash drive Tony keeps under a potted cactus. Darcy had protected the research. Once again, Steve finds himself wondering why he ever thought she couldn't handle herself, even as his gut churns at the thought of what might be happening to her.

"No sign of Wolverine or the girls," Clint confirms, leaping down and having a look around at the bare lab, "I'm not ashamed to tell ya Cap, I'm kinda...not looking forward to whoever was able to put down Logan."

"He can be sedated easily enough, but it'd have to be really, really strong stuff," Steve muses, looking around, "They were watched first, only way I can think they'd know he was here." His elation over the good chance that Darcy was still alive somewhere is dropping fast, though, realizing that it meant wherever they were, it was with an enemy they hadn't been able to track steadily, until he was already inside of Stark Tower and killing Jane. "...How the hell are we gonna find 'em, though?"

"Well," Bucky pipes up, also following them down, landing lightly on his feet. Clint is studiously unimpressed, "For one, without that ol' glass jar the geezer carried around, he won't be as cloaked from our view." He points out, "...And I can at least give you a description of the inside of his lair."

"Just the inside?" Cap eyes his friend. Winter Soldier nods once.

"I was brought in blind. Still," He shrugs, "I might be able to give some good guesses of its whereabouts, judging by where they found me when they did pull me in."

"And you didn't say this sooner because...?"

"Hey, I only remembered you were my best friend a couple of days ago, buddy." Bucky smirks.

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It's a while before they're brought out of their cell. Darcy tries to count doors, keep track of hallways, the way she'd been taught by both SHIELD and a cop who spoke to her 1st grade class about kidnappers. But everything is so uniform, so perfectly similar that even her photographic memory is tried. Betty keeps her head high, unimpressed by the small handful of assassins leading them forward. And these were the ones who hadn't been brainwashed, either. These were the ones still working for this guy, whatever he was, because they liked carnage and getting paid.

Betty wasn't afraid. It made it easier for Darcy to pretend not to be, too.

They aren't treated roughly, though. No shoving, or leering, just the occasional nudge with a cruel looking rifle, until they reach their destination. They're led into a large, dome-shaped room, in the center of which stands a bare-bones recreation of a Foster Generator. Darcy stares, jaw dropping. Someone's been studying pictures very closely. It has none of the actual components to open a wormhole, but the structure itself is a perfect twin of the one resting in Stark Tower.

Two figures are standing by the skeleton machine. A tall, broad mercenary, whom Darcy recognizes from the files she'd been studying through the beginning of February, a hard-looking, dark-skinned woman with a thin mouth. Behind her looms the man...alien...thing...who killed Jane, a cloaked figure in black and grey who seems to shift and shimmer at the edges, as if he's not quite fully inside of this reality. His broken reliquary still hangs from his arm.

"The Shifter gives you his greetings," The woman speaks, monotone and flat despite what was probably a very beautiful accent otherwise, her eyes empty. Squinting, Darcy can just make out the tendrils of shadow that connect her to the silent, hooded being. "He would tell you this himself, but your scientist damaged his ability to speak, to control many at once. Her destroying the machine made him lose his temper there for a moment," She gives a frighteningly bad parody of a smile, "I'm Lydia Gray. Until the repairs on his instrument are complete, I speak for him."

"But not of your free will," Betty points out, boldly. The woman tilts her head.

"I offered myself up," She says simply, and then motions to the machine. "The Shifter desires to go home. You will aid us this time, Miss Ross. Miss Lewis."

"He wants more than that," Betty's eyes narrow, "Don't think I didn't hear him back in New York, he wants to claim the greatest warriors from every realm, and then go back and invade those realms, am I right?" Gray presses her lips together even further, and the tendril behind her seems to flicker almost angrily.

"Regardless of his purposes. You can still buy your lives," She goes on, sharply, "Build the missing pieces to the gate."

"Even if I wanted to, I have none of Dr. Foster's research any more," Betty shrugs. She was kind of Darcy's hero at the moment, so calmly and politely giving the verbal middle finger. But this just made the mercenary woman smile again.

"You have her assistant," She says simply, pointing to Darcy.

"And who says I remember any of it?" Darcy replies, calmly, hands in her pockets.

"We know you do, you would not have been sent otherwise," Gray maintains, "And we are also quite prepared for you both to be...less than forthcoming with your information." Darcy swallows, and then does what she does best. Darcy makes a movie reference.

"So it's to be torture, then? I can handle torture." She quotes, in her best Dread Pirate Roberts voice. Well, at least Betty smiles. So does Lydia Gray, but it's far from warm.

"Nothing so simplistic," She lifts her head, and Darcy is put in mind of the creepiest sort of nightmarish marionette. "You are both dedicated. You are both strong. You love men whom you know it is unsafe to love. You might not die for SHIELD, no. But you would die for your world, for those whom you love." Darcy suddenly feels her guts churn at that, willing herself not to let it show on her face. Had they gotten her parents? Isaac, her brother?

"Should you refuse, it will be the agent in your cell who will suffer."

At that, though, Darcy's face goes hard again. "No one knew more about the sacrifice his work required than Phil Coulson. He'll probably pull the trigger for you, and smile like the smooth badass he is while he does." Again, that godawful, inhuman smile was on the mercenary's face, the tendrils controlling her now whisping around her whole form in glee.

"Not if it were pointed at his wife, and their child."

Darcy shuts her eyes tight. Shit.

"His new wife is in their home, thinking her husband simply gone on business. With a word, she can be brought here, though. A woman six months with child."

"...Fuck you, and the wormhole you came in on," Betty shocks Darcy by outright growling, glaring at the hooded figure behind Gray, "Get us a damn workspace."

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	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still utterly convinced that I fail completely at action scenes. Oh well, can't have superhero stories without 'em.

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It's a special kind of slow insanity, being in captivity. There's no abuse to be offended at, no outright torture to be enraged by. The meals are fine, and the cell is clean. It's the same meal every time, though, soup and bread. They've put Darcy and Betty in separate cells, though the former is still sharing her space with a half-catatonic Coulson. And the lights are always on in the hall, where there's no sound, expect once a day. When they do whatever it is they're doing to Logan.

"His blood," Coulson whispers one night, when Darcy is startled awake by Logan's screaming. She moves to sit by Phil, as she's taken to doing, taking his hand in hers. No one's been in to see to his ills, no one's told her what exactly has been done to him, that has his breathing ragged and labored. He's hazy on the details himself, but has told her that his brain was abnormally resistant to mind control. And so some other kind of work had been done on his physicality. He'd woken thus, drained, half-dead, and breathing hard. He does seem to be getting stronger though, the longer Darcy is there. It's just a painstakingly slow healing process, "They're taking his blood."

"What about it?" She whispers back. She tries not to talk too loudly, as conversing is why they've separated her and Betty when they're not in their makeshift lab. Coulson takes a moment, before answering just as quietly.

"When The Shifter had his reliquary, when I was first brought here, he kept going on about how a thousand years of blood sacrifices by the people on his world had given him the power to build it. Blood magic." Despite his poor health, Phil's face held that calm, patient expression still, as he spoke to her, almost like a teacher, or Natasha when she was training her, "Consider Logan, Darcy."

"...He can recover from a massive blood loss in a matter of hours," She swallows, "A thousand years of blood magic, in a matter of..." She squints, thinking, "...Weeks?"

"Maybe, maybe sooner," Coulson nods, "He's a mutant, who knows how his superior genetics might affect the process...I know you and Dr. Ross are plotting something, Agent Lewis," His voice drops to almost nothing, saving his strength. "Work fast."

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The best they've got, between James and the rest of the handful of assassins who recall their captivity, is 'somewhere in Sweden'. Captain America tries to remind himself that it's better than flying completely blind, in an entire world of hiding places. Still, Sweden is big, and everyone knows they've probably only got so much time.

"Do we know anymore about what he -is-, though?" Steve sighs, at the latest debriefing. Erik and Tony have done some amazing analysis on the crystal left behind...mainly confirming that they're not made up of anything from this world. But it gets them no closer to rescuing Darcy. Cap glances at Bruce, who looks more on edge than they've ever seen him, short of being the Other Guy. His foot is twitching, his jaw working, an impatience settled over his features. Steve's manifesting similar feelings, mostly in that he hasn't left his suit in days.

"I bear some possibilities," Thor's voice answers, as the big man enters the room, his face stony and calm. Fury sits back in his seat, eying the god closely.

"Welcome back, Thor. How's the family?"

"Burdened," Thor gives a small smirk, his eyes turning to Steve. There's a seriousness there that none of them have seen since before Jane came to the Tower, when god or not, he was still a man fighting his own brother. He sits by Natasha who, though her face remains stoic as well, drops a hand on his arm, "Loki has only admitted to having left certain doors to realms open when he came to Earth last. He thought it...in fine jest," Thor cringes, "This Shifter, if he is who my father thinks he is, goes by many names, in many realms. He is alike to Odin, warlike, old," He frowns deeply, "But without compassion. His soul was long lost to the blood rituals which gave him power over his people. He seeks only dominion."

"Blood rituals?" Tony lifts his chin, looking terribly dubious, "We talkin' some Satanic, Temple Of Doom...dark magic, sort of thing?"

"...I think I can say yes?" Thor actually smirks, glancing to Natasha, who nods once, "Yes. He demanded blood sacrifices of his people, and after generations of blood, built the relic Jane so neatly destroyed," He swallows, looking down. Tony and Bruce look to each other, both seeming to have a silent science pow-wow over how that might work. Steve just looks alarmed.

"He needs...blood to rebuild his power source..."

"And a portal to get home, don't forget that Cap," Hawkeye cuts in, rubbing his jaw, "If I had to guess, I'd bet he's draining Wolverine, and making the girls build him a gate home."

"Which means odds are very good that all three of our hostages are still alive," Fury surmises. "And will be for a while yet, until this wizard gets what he wants. We have time," He adds, sharply, glaring at them each in turn, "Use it. Find this bastard's base."

Steve Rogers doesn't need to be told twice. But...where to start?

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Darcy and Betty do their work, as ordered. They've been given a lab space near the skeletal generator, and buy themselves a lot of time those first few days, by applying the simple reflector panels to the outside, adjusting them to sit just so. They've already decided, between coded science-talk and a few notes, that Betty quickly burns up with her blow torch, that they will indeed make a functioning wormhole generator...sort of.

They don't have to pretend to drag their feet when it comes to the half-finished panels, that had also been stolen from their lab in Alberta. That was slow, tedious work to begin with, and now Darcy is relying entirely on her amazing, yet imperfect memory to complete them. Though this isn't her specific field, Betty is able to fill in some of the gaps as she etches runes and attaches wines. If it's imperfect, Darcy knows it'll still serve their purpose. But as close to perfect as possible would be ideal.

Lydia Gray is always looming nearby, which unsettles Darcy like nothing else. She's never liked people standing over her shoulder while she does -anything-, but she's proud of the fact that it makes her more irritable than nervous. Irate was empowering, nervous could give something away. And so she settled into yammering on at the brainwashed super-assassin, channeling all that annoyance.

"You know, you're one hot amazon of a lady," Darcy points out, as she's scribbling down what she can recall of notes 153 – 167. "You're totally wasted on a wispy guy in a cloak. Seriously, what's he, like a skeleton under there? Every cliché of the Grim Reaper?"

Gray just stood, serene in a frightening, unnatural way. The Shifter, meanwhile, was almost never there, at least not bodily. He was away working, his imposing minion told them, and Darcy winced, knowing what this means. He's off rebuilding his reliquary, with what blood he's gotten from Logan that day. She wonders what else, though. Between science actually sinking in, and living with Thor, Darcy's become someone who'll believe that just about anything's possible. But she knows it's more than just mysticism and voodoo.

"How much further do you think you've got to go?" Phil asks her softly, after a week in the complex. Darcy has been staring down at her lap, at the crumpled sketch of Steve she's smoothed out over her knee, drawing strength from the image of his face. The monotony and strung-out nerves have been getting to her, and Darcy can't let it. She indulges in her happy place with Steve, somewhere, and then blows out a heavy breath, shrugging.

"Another week? Two?" She whispers, "It's hard to gauge."

"Faster than he'll likely have enough blood from Wolverine, at any rate," Phil replies. "Make that your goal. The generator before the reliquary."

"Aye," Darcy smirks in the darkness, patting his shoulder, "We've agreed there are only two ways outta this, Son of Coul." She can almost hear him raise his eyebrow. "He dies. Or we all die killing him."

"Ah," She could hear his smile in his voice then, for sure, "Miss Lewis, you are officially thinking like a SHIELD Agent who'll last a long, long time."

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Natasha and Clint have left to do what they do best, which is spy. They've donned guises and entered the areas in Sweden that Bucky and a few other hired assassins remember being, before they were spirited into The Shifter's lair. They're gathering intel, actually talking to country folk, because that's the only step further SHIELD can really take at this point, short of literally tearing up every inch of ground in the country.

They do have watchers, though. Charles Xavier hasn't left Cerebro in some time, seeking Logan's signature brain waves for all he's worth. Heimdall may see all, but his gaze is especially fixed on Midgard, and searching for the face of Jane Foster's young companion. Whatever The Shifter's base is made of, it's blocking both, though Heimdall is getting flickers of Darcy every once in a while, usually when she is resting in some shining space, her hand on the blurred figure of a man. He cannot give a more accurate location than the area of Earth encompassing Sweden, though.

Steve, meanwhile, is an edgy wreck. He'd held himself together well enough when there was something to do, something to investigate. But they've combed the Alberta site clean by now, and picked Bucky's memories until he gave himself a migraine, and now there's nothing more Captain America can do but wait. It's a small comfort, having some time while Betty and Darcy are no doubt put to work. And knowing Darcy, Steve's sure she's stalling as much as she can.

But he needs to do something. He needs to ease his nerves. And so he channels his fiance's approach, and tries watching a movie again. And this time, he's got company.

"Never really did see the pacific, did we now?" James Barnes notes, as they watch The Thin Red Line. It's a good distraction for Steve, as much as he can be distracted. The pacific front was alien to him, and this particular filmmaker's approach is entrancing, poetic and horrible, all at once. It swiftly becomes less about the greater world, and more about the soldiers and the bonds they forge.

Both Steve and Bucky can relate.

"You probably still know more about it than I do," Steve smirks, rubbing his eyes. He's sitting in the theater in his uniform. He rarely takes it off lately, always waiting for the word. Bucky shakes his head, also in the bare-bones of his field clothes, boots up on the coffee table. Volstagg-the-dog has already adopted him, head in his cheeto-spattered lap.

"I didn't get much time to find out what was happening in the world, each time I was activated...least, I don't think so," James frowns, eyes squinting at the huge screen. "I do know the fight with Japan was...muddier, than with Germany."

"They were doing atrocious things too," Steve recalls, from his conversations with Darcy, and dry pages from his history books, so different than the lush, vivid world in the film, "The Japanese civilians were given the worst of the wartime lies, though. They were already a secluded nation, and their propaganda machine told 'em that Americans would rape, butcher, and eat their women and children. No exaggeration." Bucky let out a whistle.

"Someone's always sayin' something," He notes, simply, but with a weight behind it. Steve nods, and the two of them let themselves be engrossed in the film for a few long moments, thoughtfully. And then, "...Who'd have thought you'd be the one engaged first," Bucky smirks. Steve blinks, glancing over.

"...What, like you were -ever- gonna settle down?" He surprises his best friend by lofting a brow, and Bucky starts sniggering. Maybe it's the movie, but right then, it feels more like old times than ever.

"Who knows, eh? If none of this woulda happened, could have settled down after the war, had a couple of the...what do they call 'em? Baby bombers?"

"Baby boomers," Steve chuckles, shaking his head, "And yeah, probably. I could see you all done up like a 50s dad from one of Darcy's flicks."

"Drinkin' scotch with Howard Stark..." Bucky trails off, his eyes glazing over for a moment, perplexing Steve a bit. He shakes it off though, grinning again, nudging his friend, "Not all bad, though. I'm around to be your best man! Only took you seventy years to find a willing gal, eh?"

"Jerk," Steve grins, and then sighs, "...Just. Have to find her."

"We will, buddy. We will."

On cue, Thor, of all people, clears his throat over the coms, "We have a location." He thrums, and both men jump up, poor Volstagg rolling out of Bucky's lap, "A visitor has landed in Asgard."

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They finish the machine despite themselves. Darcy and Betty are watched closely, as they place the command panels carefully in their slots on the generator. They've been working together long enough to communicate with looks by now, which is handy, as The Shifter himself is overseeing their last operation, a dozen armed mercs lined up by the doors into the dome.

"Line up another 30 degrees?" Darcy asks outloud.

"Mmm, make it 31," Betty notes, stepping back. She tilts her head toward Darcy the smallest amount. Against her jeans, Darcy releases one finger. One try. They have one clean go at this.

Because despite all the precautions, neither of them believed for a second that The Shifter thought they wouldn't sabotage his generator. They know that he knows they'd try, Darcy thinks to herself, smirking inwardly. And while they might not be able to prepare for every outcome, they're fairly certain they've done what they can.

Sure enough, as soon as Betty declares that the machine is ready, set to the coordinates of The Shifter's homeworld, and starts to warm it up, Lydia Gray makes a motion to one of the mercs nearby. The man disappears, the wormhole begins to build, and Darcy crosses her fingers under the cuffs of her sweater that luck is with them. The man returns with a girl in tow, looking no more than 12. Betty and Darcy share a glance, swallowing hard, and looking properly shaken.

"We will, of course, test the machine first," Gray smiles, that cold, inhuman grin, "With Nina, here!" Nina had kitten-brown hair, was sweet-looking despite her fear, and was dressed in that modern, yet slightly off-trend manner that was the universal sign of being from the boondocks. She rattled off a question in Swedish toward Lydia, as she was shoved toward the machine, wide-eyed and scared. The vacant merc just shook her head at whatever the girl had said. And Darcy took her chance.

Letting out a cry, she lurched forward, wrapping the startled girl in a tight hug. Taking her hand, she pressed something into it, hissing a very low 'shh!' into the Swedish girl's ear. Nine was a pro at not reacting, for which Darcy was grateful, even if it turned out that she was just plain paralyzed with fear. Darcy was yanked back by Betty, and even managed to start crying a little, which wasn't too hard, as Nina was shoved through the wormhole, screaming.

It remained steady, though. Open and waiting. Leaning over one of the data screens, Lydia grinned at the results, which simply said the subject had made it through alive. "It works," She turned to The Shifter, her face brilliant, "It works."

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Heimdall turned in utmost confusion, as the Bifrost came to life. He'd seen no such activity coming his way, but then, many things had been hidden from his sight of late. And when it is a child of Midgard who tumbles through his newly repaired gate, the guardian knows exactly why this has happened.

Nina looks around her, bewildered and terrified, until she spots the armored man standing before her, tall and golden. Speechless, she lifts her hand, holding out the English note she cannot read to him, even as she gasps, recalling the one familiar word on the piece of paper. "Hei...Heimdall?!"

"Yes child," He replies, easily reading the note Darcy Lewis sent along with her, and actually smiling as he looks back at the girl. "Tell me exactly where you come from, little human."

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Darcy tries to remain jubilant, as if surprised and pleased that the machine has worked. Betty is doing the same, both of them trying to act out the balance of successful scientists and annoyed captives. Darcy's pretty sure they're doing a great job. Until The Shifter moves forward, and points to her. Lydia smiles wide, "He will take you with him, when he goes home."

Darcy blanches. The machine was rigged for one trip, and not to the Shifter's homeworld. If anyone enters that wormhole now, they'll be split into so many atoms. Thankfully, her terror seems perfectly suited to the situation, and she finds herself taking jerky, slow steps forward, Betty's wide eyes boring into her back.

Yet, Darcy knows that this must seem like no big deal to her. It was far too soon for help to come, even with Nina in Asgard, but she could still accomplish the ultimate goal. Destroying the Shifter. Protecting the Earth and everyone she loved there. Protecting Steve...she was the one doing the protecting in this moment, and it made her proud, all of a sudden. She wondered if Jane had felt this at all, right before she died.

"Your place frosty at all, bub? Cause I only got my sweater," She grins, shakily, as the cloaked, shifting figure regarded her silently. And then a cold tendril of smoke wrapped itself around her arm, drawing her forward, toward the blue, unstable rift in space and time. Darcy shut her eyes, thinking hard on Steve's face, his smile, his bright eyes.

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A roar tore through the room.

Darcy looked up as the Shifter jerked backwards, turning, as a whirlwind of fury and flashing adamantium claws cut through the line of mercenaries and made straight for the cloaked entity.

Darcy jumped away from the machine, rolling over to Betty, who'd just swiped a rifle off one of the fallen guards. Before they realize it, both of them are engaging the wall of muscle that is Lydia Gray, the whole room a mess of chaos that seems to last forever.

Darcy actually lands plenty of punches, and Betty gets in a good gun-to-the temple, but the woman still has plenty of power on them, like a wall of unleashed fury. Logan, meanwhile, is clawing at air, but at least he's keeping The Shifter occupied.

Right up until a hole tears through the top of the dome, a red, white and blue shield catching Lydia Gray in the stomach, and a bolt of holy lightening driving The Shifter into an unstable wormhole, where he's torn apart and scattered across the cosmos.

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	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm saying this everywhere, but I'm really grateful to everyone who's bearing with me as I swamp the tags, moving my library onto this site. You all get cookies :D

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"And the only solution was to stand and fight  
And my body was bruised and I was set alight  
But she came over me like some holy rite  
And although I was burning, you're the only light  
Only if for a night

And the grass was so green against my new clothes  
And I did cartwheels in your honour  
Dancing on tiptoes  
My own secret ceremonials  
Before the service began  
In the graveyard,  
Doing handstands..."  
\- Florence + The Machine

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It's over almost before she can register that there's no one left standing. Darcy blinks, taking in the room, the destroyed machine, the blood on the floor...the blood all over Logan. Superheroes are dropping down into the room, agents appearing from the halls, and the big bloody mutant wraps her up in a hug. "...You've kinda got people parts all over you, man."

"Oh, sorry," He clears his throat, stepping aside to make room for Cap, who sweeps in and crushes her in a tight embrace. Logan gives her a shit-eating grin and a wink, but Darcy is too busy to give him a smart-ass response, clutching her boyfriend close, fists gathering in his uniform.

"Nina made it through?" She gasps, and Steve nods, running a hand over her hair.

"Safe and being babysat by an ancient gate keeper," He assures her, pulling back and looking around, at the cracked panels, Betty Ross placing both hands in the Hulk's massive ones, calming him down, and the slew of bodies on the floor, "...You built a wormhole generator." He states, somewhat dazed and blinking. Darcy grins.

"With a lot of help. And it only worked for one trip..." She turns back to Logan, frowning, "...How the hell did you get out of your cell?"

"Acting," He's found a cigar and lighter on Lydia Gray, who's alive, cuffed, and coming back to her senses with the Shifter dead. Noting the wolf's head on the Zippo, Darcy would bet good money that the lighter was his to begin with, "Past few days I've been acting like the drugs they were using on me were working for longer and longer," He grins again, "And so they gave me smaller and smaller doses, didn't wanna risk accidentally killing me. I've got a third of a dose in my system right now."

"I am impressed," Darcy smiles, leaning against the star-spangled man with a plan, who seems perfectly content just to clutch at her, letting SHIELD and the others clean out the bunker, until he's completely sure that she's really there. Logan, however, narrows his eyes.

"...Don't think I didn't see your little bit of theater either," He notes, turning to walk away, cloud of rich-smelling smoke following, "Your girl was about to die for us all, Cap." Steve pales, looking down, and Darcy winces. Thanks Logan, -excellent- timing with that bit of information, when she's right there with the guy who tried to get her sent away so that she wouldn't have her life threatened.

"...Yeah so, there's that."

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It's the first time, out of the few times Darcy's been on the helicarrier, that it actually feels downright homey. The first thing that happens is she's taken to Fury for a debriefing. ("Where's Phil?" "Different plane. He and his family will be living in Monaco with Bruce Wayne after this." "Everyone makes that joke.") Then she and Betty are fed, and while they certainly weren't starved in captivity, the fact that it's not the rye bread and tomato soup they've been eating for two weeks? Has them both scarfing down steak, cake, beer, and salads both Caesar and potato, as if they haven't seen food in years. It actually makes Thor laugh for the first time in a month, watching them gorge like Asgardians.

And then, sated and stuffed, Darcy eventually finds herself alone with Steve at the table, clouds and blue sky passing by the windows around them. She bites her lip, looking down at her lap, and Steve looks as if he's physically in pain for a few moments, until he's the first one to speak, deflating, sighing.

"...Darce, I'm so sorry," He murmurs, and then she's around the table in an instant, crawling into his lap, pressing her face against his neck.

"I know, you were just scared that I'd..."

"Yeah, but I was being controlling, and stubborn too," He blurts out, "I knew you could take care of yourself, I just..."

"...Didn't want me in the thick of it, period," She whispers, nuzzling him a little, "I get it, was a jerk move, but I get it." The tension in his frame eases under her, his arms wrapping around her waist, head dropping down to her shoulder.

"I don't ever want to lose you, but...I really did think, maybe, some quiet would make you remember how calm your life could be..." He tells her, softly, and Darcy rolls her eyes, shaking her head.

"Mkay, first?" She murmurs, playing with his hair, drinking him all in, "That wasn't a calm, normal life experience up in Canada...that was slow torture by boredom. Gitmo prisoners have been through more stimulating days." She grins, and he lets out a sheepish chuckle. Darcy takes this as a good sign, kissing his nose, "Second, I did kinda remember what life, pre-Avengers was like," Her grin widens, "Back to cheap liquor, uncomfortable digs, wondering what the hell to do with my life, and getting hit on by guys who'd have been horrible for me." Steve snorts.

"Point taken," He sighs, leaning back, clutching her close. "Still say you deserve better. You almost died saving the world."

"Nothing's better than you, handsome. And there are a lot worse things that can end up on a girls' tombstone." Darcy shuts her eyes, more than willing to spend the rest of the flight home in Captain America's lap. He seems pretty all right with this arrangement as well. And then his eyes snap open again.

"...Wait, did Logan hit on you?"

"...Wolverine kissed me, hun," Darcy murmurs, sleepily, "Don't worry though, already punched him in the face."

"...Of course you did." His chuckling helps lull her to sleep, which she does for the rest of the trip home to New York.

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Stark Tower still seems empty without Jane, for Darcy. They moved here together, before meeting anyone else, setting up the labs, a united brunette front against intimidating super-people. She misses her blustering around, misplacing her notebooks, arguing with Tony about her duct-taped-and-patched-together equipment. Being somewhere brand new and exciting had made them bond more than ever, more like two girlfriends than a brilliant physicist and her novice of an intern. Darcy has Steve now, yes, but being home makes her miss her best friend afresh, sharp and painful.

However, there's still Erik, wrapping her up in a tight hug when she goes back to the lab the very next day. Darcy knows it's because he's seeing Jane in her presence, and in her dark hair perhaps, but it fills her heart to bursting, too, to have him. Then he's asking her to tell him all about her and Betty's daring heroics, and she's actually talking science with Erik Selvigg and Bruce Banner, and Darcy Lewis finds herself thanking Jane Foster, once again, for giving a somewhat directionless poli-sci major a chance.

"Missed you," Pepper tells her when she catches Darcy in the halls, wrapping her up in Darcy's millionth hug of the day. All Stella McCartney and Louboutins, Pepper Potts is perhaps the last sort of classy, high-powered lady Darcy thought she'd count as a friend. But the woman is warm, grinning and genuine, looking so very happy to have the women back in the Tower, "It's SO good to have you and Betty back. Let's all have a girls' sushi night soon...and if you need -anything-..."

"I know exactly who to ask," Darcy gulps, her smile wobbling.

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And as always, there's Steve, who's almost as clingy now as he was when she left the hospital last year. They fall into bed that night, and while they've gotten up to plenty over the course of their relationship, superhero makeup sex is brand new and pretty amazing. So is yay-you're-still-alive sex. And the two together is another thing entirely, all clutching each other, whispering promises into each other's skin, his hands everywhere, her limbs wrapping around him like a vice.

After, Darcy devotes herself to committing every inch of him to memory, tracing his face and collarbones with soft fingers as they lie in bed, sated and warm. He stares back at her, as if reminding himself that she's real, lips against her skin.

"Let's get married," She hears herself whisper. Captain America starts, and then just stares at her for a long moment, at Darcy Lewis, the girl terrified of marriage before she was 25, looking adorably perplexed in his less-than-clothed state.

"...Now?" He blinks, and Darcy giggles, burrowing further into the blankets, into the big arms already wrapped tight around her.

"Of course not, you big doof," She hums, pressing a kiss to his chest, hearing his heart rate going up again. She shuts her eyes, grinning against his flesh. "...How about this weekend? You, me, a city clerk..."

"Okay!" He says immediately, making her giggle again. But then, of course, Steve shakes his head, backpedaling, "Wait, are you sure?" He whispers, looking down at her, her dark mane of hair resting against him, "I though you wanted to wait a few years..."

"I did...but," She murmurs, quietly, "...That was when waiting until I was a certain age made sense with where I was in life, with what my plans were," Her fingers ghost along his jawline, up into his hair, and his eyes slide shut. He's missed her. She's missed him. The little smile on her face widens, "It doesn't make sense though, waiting now," Darcy's voice drops to a whisper, as his eyes open again, meeting hers steadily, "I don't want us to be like Betty and Bruce, leaving to keep each other safe and then coming back, again and again, when they could have just been -together- for the last ten years. And..." She swallows, "...I don't want to be like Jane and Thor. I don't want one of us to leave the other without...without doing what we planned. I want to get married."

"...Okay," Steve says again, this time slowly, a fresh grin spreading over his face, "This weekend...you don't want a big Jewish wedding? I mean...with the canopy, and your family, and all?" Darcy shakes her head.

"I mean, maybe later, we can have a ceremony whenever. Maybe this summer. But I want to be -married- now. I want you to be my husband, now."

"Well alright then, Miss. Lewis," He murmurs, tugging her up for a good and proper kiss.

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"No." Is Tony's reaction, when Darcy hands him an invite in the lab, for post-courthouse drinks up in their apartment, Friday afternoon. "No! No. You and Captain America are not getting hitched at a town hall. And on a Friday? Darcy, baby, no."

"Better ideas?" Darcy rolls her eyes, as Betty chuckles behind her. Tony just gives her a dazzling grin.

"I'm marrying you. Here. Just get a license and it's happening. You'll be safe from the press, you'll actually have people you know watching, and the trip to the booze and the bedroom will be much shorter." Darcy stares. "...What, you're -surprised- that I'm ordained?"

"...A little, yeah."

"Eh, I was bored one Tuesday in '08."

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And that's how it happens, that Darcy Lewis marries Steve Rogers in Stark Tower, with Iron Man officiating in his own penthouse. Pepper is able to talk him out of performing the ceremony in his suit, while Steve is downright Hollywood-style dashing in his uniform, his best friend standing next to him, clapping his shoulder with a bionic arm. Darcy sways into the room in the long-sleeved, white lace number she'd bought on impulse with Jane, tottering in lace-covered heels. The way Steve's face lights up at the sight of her has her blushing, as if it were when they'd first met, all awkward and sweet.

Their vows are short. Really, they've said so much to each other by now, the promises that leave their lips are straightforward, simple, and all the more meaningful in the context of their lives. When Cap promises 'til death do us part, it's without knowing how long he can actually live. When Darcy promises in sickness and in health, it's knowing that either of them can be struck by any manner of evil, at any time. Simple words, spoken by two people whose lives aren't simple in the slightest.

Tony is actually an excellent officiant, glancing back and forth between the two of them, smiling, behaving himself. Up until the very end, anyway, when they've finished their vows and slipped their simple gold bands on each other's fingers. "By the power dubiously vested in me by the state of Nevada," He smirks, "Yes, I originally got ordained that I might marry people as Elvis...I now pronounce you husband and long-suffering wife. Darcy Rogers, you may now kiss your super-husband."

Laughing, Darcy reaches up and drags Steve in for a good and proper kiss, the agents and friends watching be damned. Bucky lets out a loud catcall, and then everyone's clapping, and looking up at her husband, Darcy's pretty sure Captain America's never looked so happy in his life. And she probably looks pretty damn radiant herself.

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That night finds them all together still, diving into the spread that Pepper had catered ("My wedding present."), drinks flowing and, for the first time since the attack on the Tower, everyone is enjoying themselves. Thor and Bruce are drinking and laughing together, the latter with Betty Ross leaning happily on his arm, the former raising toasts to Jane's memory, but in a manner that says he's come to terms with her loss, even if it might be years before he moves past it. Tony and Pepper are slow dancing by the jukebox, Natasha watching as the bartender teaches her how to mix a proper long island iced tea. Clint is grinning like a cat at the bar, ordering drink after complicated drink, as the Russian ex-spy learns how to make them.

Darcy flops onto a lounge, barefoot now, her borrowed Louboutins left somewhere by the chocolate fountain. She lies across Steve's lap, grinning up at him. "Why hello there, Captain Rogers," She greets him, lofting her appletini. Steve grins right back, James chuckling nearby.

"Hello, Mrs. Rogers," He reaches down, winding a long, wavy lock of her hair around his fingers, "And how does this fine evening find you?"

"-Great-," Darcy sighs, reaching up, running her thumb over his bottom lip, "We're married. Me and you. Married."

"We are."

"S'like something out of a movie." Her grin widens, "Want to stay together forever?" The soldier out of time matches her smile, nodding once, leaning down to kiss her softly.

"Absolutely," He murmurs, his voice gone serious now, his eyes gone searching, "I'll never ask you to leave again, Darcy."

"Good," She whispers back, "Cause I've kind of become a bad-ass now. And I can kind of put up a good effort, beating some sense into you, if I have to." She smiles wide, and Steve laughs.

"Yes 'mam."  
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~ End

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End file.
